


Fair Lady

by WackyGoofball



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bad Flirting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I got caries from this, Romance, So many tags, Strangers to Lovers, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Author is fulfilling a severe need for fluff and happy times, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Uncle Jaime is really just the uncle, faires, happy things for happy people, seriously, snow cones are dangerous if used incorrectly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 16:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20230942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WackyGoofball/pseuds/WackyGoofball
Summary: Jaime Lannister finds himself stuck in a fair-hell not-so-fair when he is tasked to take his nephews and niece to the fair. Choas and complications ensue, confronting Jaime more than once with what seems to be sad truth: He is shit for a parent.Though luckily, he gets unexpected help from a tall woman  who knows how to fire toy rifles - and handle a bunch of teenagers in her care, though this fair lady doesn't seem to view things the same way he does.And maybe, just maybe, there is a way out of this chaos - unless they get stuck on a ride forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Renee561](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renee561/gifts).

> Hello everyone, thanks for letting me indulge in my dire need of shameless fluff and utter nonsense.
> 
> Warnings go as per usual: I am no native. I write in present tense. I own all of my mistakes.
> 
> And yet, I hope you will enjoy this tale, which was supposed to be much shorter, but... story of my life, things got longer than expected.
> 
> I gift this to my most wonderful Renee, who deserves all of world's JB fluff. 
> 
> Much love! ♥♥♥

“You remind me again, why did we agree to this?” Jaime asks, making a face as he looks ahead to the monstrosity of colorful lights, people shouting, children screaming and running around unauthorized, and loudspeakers blaring out of seemingly every corner.

“Because we didn’t want the _Wrath of Cersei Lannister_ to come upon us yet again?” Tyrion suggests, also looking at that which built up before them ever since leaving the car in the parking lot, which is more of a pile of dirt that will likely earn them a ride through the car wash the next day.

“But is _that_ worth it?” Jaime questions with a grimace.

“Considering what she does to her enemies… I think this may actually still be the lesser evil,” Tyrion points out, tilting his head to the side, only to have his attention drawn to two teenagers engaging in a _slushy-fight_. It turns out to be a contest wherein both participants toss the way too colorful ice to have some kind of natural flavor at each other’s faces. And apparently, he rules also include not caring whether other passerby get a “slushower,” as they call it more than loudly to anyone scolding them for their behavior.

_The wonders of youth. _

“You think?” Jaime comments, wrinkling his nose, watching the two boys, one in red, one in what supposedly was green once go on with their “slushower” game.

“I ran the numbers,” the younger man confirms. “I have a program written for that.”

“A program for an estimation of what is worse – our sister’s wrath or whatever other worst case scenario that comes to mind?” Jaime snorts, making a face. “You never told me about that.”

“And I normally wouldn’t have. But… I realized just now that we may not survive this ordeal. And that means the honor befalls upon you to destroy my harddrive and all other data I have in my condo so that our dear sister never finds out about its existence,” Tyrion tells him.

“But if you are dead, it makes no difference anymore, does it?” Jaime points out to him, tilting his head to the side with a frown.

“I have a working theory that Cersei Lannister will find a way to mistreat me even in my death. She’s the only one I wouldn’t put it past to become a haunting ghost just to get back at me in the afterlife,” Tyrion tells him.

Jaime makes a face. “A man of science who believes in the afterlife _and_ ghosts?”

“I have not yet found data that disqualifies either one as non-existent,” Tyrion answers. “Which means… I merely take precautions in preparation of the potential outcomes of an experiment gone wrong. As should you.”

“You might have a point there,” Jaime agrees, looking over to the gate ahead, which, to make matters worse, is shaped like the mouth of a clown you have to climb through into the hell which is called the _King’s Landing Fair_. “So? Do you have any plan? Please say yes?”

“Quite a simple one, actually,” the younger brother answers, hands folded in his back. “But for now, let’s just get inside. We can’t stay out here forever.”

“Can’t we?” Jaime wrinkles his nose. In fact, every muscle in his body protests at the mere thought of going through a portal shaped like a gigantic clown about to eat you.

_That is like riding to your own doom against a life dragon, on a bloody white horse and nothing but a spear in hand_, Jaime thinks to himself with a grimace.

“I fear the dear children would riot if we opted out now,” Tyrion points out, nodding behind himself where young Tommen, Myrcella, _and the_ _sunshine of the family_, Joffrey make their way up to the fair full of flashing lights and _slushowers_.

Jaime tilts his head to the side, because actually, the only one who seems rather enthusiastic about this is young Tommen, whose eyes almost spark as they catch the bright lights ahead. His sister, meanwhile, is busy texting on the phone, not bothering to lift her head just once to see what lies ahead, whereas Joffrey looks like his usual self, seemingly always out for trouble and generally pissed.

_He would make for a wonderful middle child, if he wasn’t the oldest of the bunch. _

“Welcome to the _Fair of Hell_,” Jaime comments to Tyrion, before flashing a smile at the children as they catch up to them. “Time for some fun at the fair, kids! Who is excited?”

“I am!” Tommen shouts, whereas the other two ignore all of it, Myrcella’s fingers dancing over the phone at lightning speed whereas Joffrey narrows his eyes at the clown entrance.

Jaime sighs, shaking his head.

_And so, the game begins._

Thankfully, the gigantic clown does not decide to eat them upon walking through the gates, but that doesn’t make this any more of a pleasant entry for Jaime. It’s even louder in here than it was outside in the parking lot. The scooters make awful beeping noises that make his ears ring. Children nearly run them over as they chase to the next attraction. Babies are wailing in the buggies as stressed-out parents try to keep their older children somewhat controlled – though most of them fail miserably at the task. And Jaime reckons he won’t look much different from them soon enough.

_And that even though I am no father by any means. _

The sound of a teenager throwing up his guts nearby makes Jaime wrinkle his nose. Curiously enough, it takes him back to distant memories of the times he himself attended those fairs and chased around to win plush animals and plastic roses in the shooting ranges.

Though truthfully, Jaime can’t even say how many fairs he ever went to. It’s all a blur of colors, strobe light, carnies shouting over loudspeakers to “hold on tight as lights go bright” and “now or never, last chance to join the ride the _Scrambler_!”

He is fairly sure about the last he attended as a boy, though. It was back at the Rock, when he was a young teenager. His father made him go with his siblings and sweet Melara Hetherspoon. The Hetherspoons were friends of influence Tywin Lannister wanted to have business with, which was the reason why the siblings were instructed to be very, very, very nice to Melara. She was supposedly Cersei’s best friend, though Jaime came to the conclusion later on in his life that his sister was incapable of having friends.

_You need to be friendly to people for that, and my dear sister is incapable of that, apparently. _

Be it as it may, they were at that fair at the Rock, Jaime can recall that much. As far as he was concerned, Melara had a little crush on him, though Jaime did not return it in kind. She was sweet but far too giggly, and anyway, he was too much into fencing lessons and sports clubs to bother with girls. Thus, the evening mostly consisted of watching out for little Tyrion, who could easily be lost in the crowd, and managing to politely signal sweet Melara that he was not interested.

_Not that this worked out that well in the end. _

Because Melara tried to get him into riding through the _Love Tunnel_ with him. Jaime tried to tell her as politely as he could that he would _really_ rather not. She kept pushing, though, and Jaime considered just getting over with it, for the sake of the family. Yet, just as he was about to go to the booth to get them a ticket, someone suddenly shoved the poor girl right into the stream of the water ride.

It turned out to be Cersei, who could not stand the idea of sharing her brother with anyone, or rather, couldn’t stand the thought that Jaime may have interest in anyone other than herself. Back in those days, Jaime didn’t reflect on it the way he does now. He was close to his sister and he knows for a fact he let more things slide with regards to her behavior than he should have.

They grew somewhat distant not long thereafter. While the _Love Tunnel Incident_ was not the reason, it certainly contributed to Tywin Lannister’s wish to break up his twins for good, which was why both were sent to boarding schools eventually. Jaime went to an all-boys boarding school at Riverrun whereas Cersei came to an all-girls boarding school in King’s Landing.

At first, things were difficult. Jaime missed his sister. He missed his family. He was worried for Tyrion, who suddenly was alone with their father, who never quite “forgave” Tyrion for having been born the same day their mother died giving birth to him. However, over time, Jaime started to make new friends. And Cersei found people who readily followed the pretty girl from the Rock like a beehive to make her feel like a queen in the making.

By the time Jaime moved to the capital to join the family business there, it was as though he was meeting a stranger who turned out to be his sister, and that even though there was a point in time when their mother was scared to death that they were close in a way that siblings shouldn’t be. And she may have had a point, considering what Cersei decided to do to poor Melara already back at that age.

_Gods know what the boarding school prevented in the end. Who knows what would have become of us if poor Melara had not stayed a singular phenomenon of that sort_.

Either way, that was the last time Jaime comes to remember actually having attended a fair of that sort. He _was_ to some medieval themed fairs during his later years, due to an increasing interest in medieval weaponry and history that he took up on once he started taking certain courses at school, later on at _Citadel College_. However, he’d take any medieval fair over _this_ monstrosity of strobe-light that has Jaime think that it may earn him a seizure if he keeps looking at the colorful rides just long enough.

_Tempting, almost… _

Tyrion, meanwhile, maneuvered to the next best booth where you can exchange actual money into plastic chips, _because that is supposed to make any_ _sense_. Jaime never tried to get to the bottom of that exchange system, since it stays money you pay for no matter what currency or material you are using.

_But hey, at least they are colorful. And there is a stupid clown on them. _

Jaime had to keep the children in one place, which proved not as difficult as he thought it would, but then realized that without money, the children aren’t going anywhere. So maybe they should just not give them anything, right? Then they wouldn’t go anywhere and the peace would stay intact.

_Or they would start to riot. And dear Joffrey may start to take rides apart… which is… not good. _

The kids’ uncle lets his gaze wander about another time before coming to rest back on the three. The corners of Jaime’s mouth curl into a grimace as his attention remains on his niece.

“Will you keep texting the whole night, Myrcella?” Jaime questions the girl who seems much more preoccupied with her colorful, glittery phone than anything else in the entire world.

Myrcella won’t even grace him by so much as looking up. Instead, her thumbs keep swiping over the phone at rapid speed. If there is ever going to be a nationwide competition for that, Jaime is pretty sure she may easily make it to the top five.

“I am here because mom forces us,” she answers in a monotonous voice. “I actually wanted to stay in Dorne, but who listens to me? Right, no one.”

“You know your mother is eager to see you. She misses you,” Jaime sighs. While he understands that Myrcella would rather be back in Dorne, he also knows that Cersei is so very eager to see her daughter whenever there are holidays.

_But then, Cersei’s nature always gets in the way of things, which seems to be a natural law of some sort. _

“Well, she would have more of me if she finally put her argument with Ellaria Sand to rest. Then I could bring Trystane along, but _no_, they are busy fighting over whatever that nonsense is supposed to be about. So… _that_ is my act of defiance,” Myrcella tells him with a resolution only teenagers can express in this way.

“And what do _I_ have to with it, care to remind me?” Jaime frowns, to which the blonde girl only ever rolls her shoulders. “You are the messenger.”

“Ah,” Jaime says, nodding his head slowly.

That Martell-Lannister feud has been going on for far too long, but that is what happens when their company crushed Oberyn Martell’s business almost overnight, _and not in a perfectly legal way, let’s say_. Tyrion tried to ease the tension by showing goodwill and pulling some threads for Myrcella to be sent to a boarding school at Sunspear.

_That didn’t work out all too well, though._

In fact, it only ever earned the youngest of Tywin’s children Cersei Lannister’s absolute wrath. She has a tendency to be overly protective, edging on possessive, over her children, which is why sending her daughter to a boarding school was always out of question. She felt very much betrayed by Tyrion making the arrangements and has since seemingly vowed to make Tyrion’s life miserable.

Because, against all odds, Myrcella soon started to love it at Dorne and didn’t even want to come back home first time she had a longer break. While her daughter thrived in Dorne, Cersei deteriorated at the family company, bossing everyone around, throwing things at people for as much as looking at what she perceived to be the wrong way. When Myrcella did come back for vacation at last, everyone was hoping for Cersei to finally calm down, but the exact opposite happened, because Myrcella, in her teenage girl time, was and still is full-on rebellious and fed up with her mother treating her the way she does.

However, it wasn’t just the Wrath of Cersei Lannister that came upon them over Myrcella’s stay in Dorne, it was also Ellaria Sand’s fury that was soon upon them. She was less than pleased that Myrcella got herself a sweetheart in Doran Martell’s son, Trystane. To this day, she considers it a slight against Oberyn and Elia. She still demands retribution for what happened with their company, and from what Jaime heard, she even enlisted her three daughters to pick on Myrcella and Trystane in an effort to drive a wedge between them.

Though, as teenagers often are, Myrcella and Trystane prove stubborn enough in their oh so great love to bother to care about either the Sand Snakes, as the three sisters call their little gang, or the ongoing quarrels between their families.

Not that this makes it any easier for Jaime now. Because to Myrcella’s young mind, he is just part of the family problem, when Jaime tries his best to stay out of that feud. But yes, in her eyes, if she ever looks up from her phone, he is only just the messenger.

Jaime is glad when Tyrion finally re-emerges from the booth handing out the colorful plastic chips serving as on-site currency in cheap, thick plastic bags. He doesn’t know what to do with these kids, or kids in general, which makes this even more of an ordeal than it is anyway.

“Alright, the three of you, come to your Uncle Tyrion,” the dwarf calls out as he reaches them, gesturing at the children to come closer. “Here, here!”

“But I want to go see the shooting range!” Joffrey pouts, arms crossed over his chest, acting as sweet as curdled milk tastes.

“In a minute, my oh so patient nephew,” Tyrion exhales, rolling his eyes, before waving the three identical plastic bags full of colorful plastic chips at them. “So now, you listen to me carefully. I have a deal for you: You agree to stay within eyeshot of your uncles _at all times_. For that, in return, you get all of these and can play whatever the Seven Hells you want – so long you swear that your mother will believe that we have dutifully only ever taken you to the small rides. Do we have a deal?”

The three nod their heads frantically at the sight of the plastic chips promising a night full of games and cheap stuffed animals, even young Myrcella seems to be intrigued enough to momentarily abandon her phone.

“Either of you sneaks away to go where we can’t see you? You lose all of your chips, easy as that,” Tyrion explains.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Joffrey grumbles, kicking invisible stones away.

“I hold the chips, and thus I wield the power, so _yes_, I get to tell you what to do. Or else your Uncle Jaime might just as well park you in the backseat again and you have to sit there to think about how you misbehaved while we are having a great time,” Tyrion says, nodding at his brother, who agrees, “And I will.”

“Fine!” Joffrey spats, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

“I am always so glad to hear when you agree with me, my dear nephew,” Tyrion sighs. “Oh yes, further rules: No alcohol, no explosives, and no one is hurting any other person on or near the property. No one subtracts from the population either. Uncle Tyrion does not want to have to talk to police because of you.”

He gives Joffrey a stern look, but the teen only ever turns his head away, looking offended.

“Understood?” the uncle asks.

“Understood,” the three agree, though only Myrcella and Tommen actually look at their uncle while saying so, whereas Joffrey is busy looking aloof, like you ought to when you are a teenager who wants to be _edgy and above-it-all_.

“Good, then go forth and… fire away,” Tyrion says, handing each a bag full of plastic currency. “But no actual fire, please!”

Joffrey walks off without further prelude, tossing the plastic bag up and down as though he already won a prize.

“Myrcella, sweetling, would you be so kind to have a bit of an eye on your younger brother?” Tyrion tries, because the girl is instantly back on her phone, the plastic bag long since having disappeared into her pricey _Michael Kosrak_ bag.

The girl lets out a sigh to make her discontent be known, but then brings herself to flash her younger brother a smile, saying, “C’mon, Tommen, I want to go to the _Tombola_. Maybe we get lucky?”

“Hopefully,” the younger brother answers. “They have plush cats!”

The two siblings make for the _Tombola_, whereas the oldest of the bunch almost looks like a bloodhound while trying to find the best first attraction to go to, eventually settling with the _High Striker_, instantly challenging three boys about his age to duel – and losing rather miserably, for all the two brothers can judge from the distance.

“You think _that_ is a sound plan now?” Jaime comments.

“My plan is very good, trust me in this,” Tyrion announces with a smirk.

“You basically let them do whatever they want,” Jaime argues. “How is that a very well controlled and worked-out plan, you remind me?”

Last time he checked, letting children do whatever they want is not considered good parenting advice. While Jaime himself is far from the realm of having kids at this point in his life, he dares to think he knows at least that much about parenting to be fairly sure that this is not a pedagogically sound idea.

“The reason for that is quite simple, dear brother: That is what we want. Because that means _Joffrey Darling_ will not spill to his mother, or else he would potentially forgo the hypothetical chance of going to the fair next year to, yet again, do whatever Joffrey Darling wants,” Tyrion points out to him. “And that is key to ensure that the _Wrath_ does not come upon us.”

“You think there is a next time?” Jaime makes a face.

“I hope not, but that is something the kids don’t have to know,” Tyrion argues.

Jaime nods his head slowly. “True.”

“And the second part? The dear children will wear themselves so much out that they will be sleeping the whole ride back, which will give us the treasure of their silence as we make back home. The drive here was terrible enough already,” Tyrion sighs.

One should think that two teenagers and a younger baby brother who is truly sweet could not cause any trouble, but far from it. No five minutes into pulling out of the driveway and Joffrey had stolen Myrcella’s phone, so there was a wrestling match in the back in which poor Tommen happened to be right in the middle of.

Tyrion’s arms were too short to intervene, because he was _not_ willing to climb into the backseat, whereas Jaime was busy driving the car without getting them all into an accident. Thus, this drama went on for a while under much screaming, shouting, and crying, which left the Jaime and Tyrion fearing that it would get them a tour to the hospital in case someone managed to scratch the other sibling’s eyes out at last.

The only saving grace was Joffrey’s apparent short attention span, which was soon drawn to something else, having grown bored of Myrcella’s shouting at him to return her phone. It didn’t last long, though, as that led to the rest of the ride continuing with Joffrey kicking against the back of the driver’s seat for the rest of the ride. And Jaime is quite sure that he will have a stiff neck from it in the morning.

“Cersei never should have opposed sending the boy to therapy,” Jaime sighs, shaking his head, watching the boy continuing to challenge the boys he clearly lost against to a rematch, growing quite aggravated when they dare laugh at him in return.

“She should have signed up for a session herself,” Tyrion scoffs. “But anyway, that’s not the concern for tonight. We just have to somehow make sure no one loses body parts and that we have those three kids in the back of the car by the time we leave. Sounds easy enough.”

“But rarely are things as easy as we make them out to be. Or do I have to remind you of Tommen’s birthday party?” Jaime points out.

_And that was one disaster… _

Tyrion makes a face, shaking himself. “Please don’t. I want to erase that from public memory altogether.”

“That shouldn’t repeat itself,” Jaime agrees, swallowing thickly. “Ever.”

“I surely hope so.” Tyrion nods his head, but then seems to spot something of his immediate interest. “But for now, I have to excuse myself, brother dear.”

“You _what_? We are no five minutes here,” Jaime cries out in exasperation. “You are not going off alone already, no way in the Seven Hells!”

“But I need something to _drink_,” the younger brother argues.

“You don’t intend to get drunk at the friggin’ _fair_, do you?” Jaime pouts.

His brother is known for having quite a thirst for those beverages, and he takes pride in coming drunk to the office on occasion, but Jaime dared to have the faint hope that his little brother would keep it together at least for this one occasion.

_So much to that._

“I have no intention of suffering through the evening while sober,” Tyrion answers. “You are the driver, we decided on that. So… that booth over there is mine. I will be back as soon as I can bring the bartender’s attention to my small self.”

Jaime narrows his eyes at the younger man, knowing this is a lost cause. “Fine, traitor.”

“Oh, don’t think bad of me, brother dearest, I am just a thirsty little dwarf, no superhero!”

Jaime sighs as he watches his brother make his way over to the booth offering all sorts of colorful booze, which, for decorative reasons only, run in glass tubes at the top of the bar.

The children, for now, are thankfully within eyeshot. Myrcella and Tommen are busy unrolling their prize-draw tickets to see if they got a winner, or rather, Tommen is whereas Myrcella leans against the booth to go through her text messages.

Joffrey, meanwhile, gladly abandoned the _High Striker _after he lost to the three boys yet again, pointing out loudly that “this is a child’s game anyway.” Right now, his attention is very much focused on the _Whack-A-Direwolf_, which might be for the best, Jaime reckons, because if he keeps doing that for a while, the boy will at least be a bit tired, which will help with some of his aggression.

_Of which there is a lot… _

“Just be sure that you keep the rifle butt in the pocket of your firing shoulder. Keep your elbow down and in, that is very important. And don’t forget to relax your neck when you lean your cheek against the stock. Or else you will be shooting anything but the target. In general, try to relax and don’t hold your breath. And don’t close one eye while shooting. That is what people do who don’t know what they are doing or watched too many cheap Western movies. And _squeeze_ the trigger instead of just pulling back abruptly. Like that.”

Jaime can’t help but frown as he watches a tall blonde woman acting as though she held a rifle in hand, standing next to a black-haired boy about Joffrey’s or Myrcella’s age, who looks at her with equal amounts of astonishment and nervousness.

“Did you get everything?” the tall blonde asks.

“Uh, yes, I think… I hope,” the raven-haired boy answers, chewing on his lower lip pensively.

“Then go to the stall and take some practice shots beforehand,” the woman tells him, giving him a few more colorful chips.

“Oh, but I…,” the teenager means to say sheepishly, but the woman interrupts him before he can get to the point, “Take them and go now, Pod.”

“Thank you so much,” the boy, _Pod_, as it turns out, says, almost bowing to her in gratitude.

“It’s nothing,” she assures him. “Just go and shoot. And don’t forget the elbow!”

The teenager rushes over to the _Balloon and Dart Game_ over to the left.

That may be the first time Jaime saw a woman give advice on proper shooting at a fair. And he must say that this gets his attention. Though Jaime reckons that anything that is _not_ his nephews and niece being varying degrees of terrible may get his attention right at this point.

The woman with blonde, short-cropped hair which is neatly brushed back looks not particularly pretty, indeed rather mannish, considering her physique. However, Jaime has to give the woman that much, she has legs that seem to go on for a mile. Even with a beige woolen coat that goes over her rear, her limbs are still impressively long, and dressed in that rather tight-fitting skinny jeans leaving no doubt that she is muscular, _very muscular_, which Jaime learned to appreciate a whole lot over time.

_It has very clear advantages in certain parts of life, mostly late at night… _

Jaime shakes his head, clapping himself on the cheek now. He is supposed to be on a mission to keep his nephews and niece from either getting killed or killing someone. He shouldn’t let himself be distracted by this wickedly long-legged women giving shooting practice in distracting skinny jeans.

He will blame it on his recent luck with women, however. Because, as Tyrion would so eloquently say, the older brother “didn’t get laid in ages.” That is not because of a lack of opportunity. Jaime knows that he unites in himself what most women – _and some men_ – find attractive in a guy. He is rich, and by most standards handsome. Jaime has a way with most people, granted that he wants to have a way with them, because he does take to heart one of the few teachings of Tywin Lannister: _The lion does not concern itself with the sheep_. And if Jaime senses that people are only ever cozying up to him because they see the family wealth behind him, or if he realizes that what drives them is curiosity about the _Aerys Affair_, he is quick to shut down and treat people with indifference and sharp comments.

So yes, a lack of opportunity is not Jaime’s problem with the women. He went out on dates for a while, at his brother’s suggestion and _pushing_, but things never went much further than a nice dinner or the occasional one-night stand. And that despite the fact that Jaime will admit, if only to himself, that there is a small part of him that wonders what it’s like to be in a longterm relationship, to be married and have kids, have a settled down life and push buggies around, or give piggyback rides, chasing the older children as they rush ahead to the next attraction.

However, there never seemed to be a woman to see past the fancy exterior, to see past the name. There never seemed to be one he felt being honest to or building futures with. Thus, Jaime gave up on the hunt as of late, instead focused on the job and nothing but the job, much to Tyrion’s annoyance as he greatly benefited from their bar night-outs to look for “potential suitor-_esses_” for his older brother.

When Cersei told him that he and Tyrion were charged with taking the kids to the fair so that she could have some alone-time with her unofficial boyfriend Euron Greyjoy, Jaime was a) appalled because it’s Euron fuckin’ Greyjoy we are talking about and b) irritated. Because keeping watch over her kids always has him feel like there is no way in the world that Jaime Lannister could ever have a family life, could ever have children of his own and settle down and push buggies and give piggyback rides.

_Because apparently, I can’t even keep watch over them for longer than five minutes at a friggin’ fair._

The sound of a plush wolf with a squeaker falling to the ground brings Jaime back to the fair and far away from his miserable self. Jaime frowns at the thing, momentarily wondering why someone would put a squeaker in a wolf, but then realizes that the speaker is supposed to mimic a wolf’s howling, while doing a miserable job at it.

Jaime looks up again to see the long-legged blonde walking away, apparently having lost the toy. He is quick to gather the plush animal, dusting it off as he chases after the tall woman with the wickedly long legs, which clearly give her an advantage in speed.

“Miss!” he calls out, but the woman can’t hear him thanks to the carny at the Log Ride shouting invitations to “get wet” – _innuendo maybe intended, though certainly not suited for this target audience_. Jaime sighs, speeding up some more to tap her on the shoulder in an effort to get her attention at last.

The blonde woman whirls around abruptly, snapping his hand away in a way that leaves no doubt in Jaime’s mind that she knows some close combat. Jaime holds the plush wolf in front of his face as a kind of peace offering.

“I think you dropped something?” he suggests, peeking over it with a smirk.

“Oh, oh, I am so sorry,” she says, her eyes opening wide as she takes in the situation. “I thought someone was trying to grab me from behind and then instincts kicked in and I… my apologies.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Jaime assures her quickly, finding himself strangely intrigued by the sudden change in her demeanor. In the moment she grabbed him, she seemed overly confident. In every movement she bled out surety, but now the tall woman’s big, blue eyes chase around for focus on anything other than his face, nervously fidgeting around with her fingers.

“I believe you want that back,” Jaime offers, holding out the plush wolf to her.

The woman takes it, her hands shaking for a moment when nearly brushing against his, and then stuffs it tightly under left arm. “Thanks a lot.”

“No problem,” Jaime replies, flashing a smirk at her.

“I should have brought a bag, actually, but that was before I realized that I would be the walking shelf for the prizes,” she ponders, coughing nervously.

“And here I thought the ladies always carried bags around with them anyway,” Jaime snorts, amused. “I always thought that was some kind of natural law.”

“I am not like most women,” she replies, as though it was an automatism to say so. “Though no big surprise right there, I assume… I mean…”

She looks down at her sneakers for a moment, but then focuses back on him, seemingly angry with herself for digressing, though Jaime can only ever find that endearing, coming from a woman that tall.

“Well, in any case, thank you for picking it up and returning it. I bet the next person would have just stepped on it,” she continues.

“And that would have been a pity, poor plush wolfy,” Jaime snorts. “Though its howl is also kind of pitiful.”

“Most definitely. It sounds like something died a very tragic death,” she agrees, looking down at the plush wolf. “It looks cute, at least.”

“So… you are here with your son?” Jaime asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, hoping to somewhat smoothly start a conversation.

The frown forming on her face makes him question his abilities, though.

“Huh?”

Jaime’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he goes on to say, “The dark-haired boy you gave shooting lessons to earlier on? I saw you giving him some valuable advice before letting him have a go at the _Balloon and Dart Game_.”

“Oh, _that_…,” she answers, shaking her head. “He just wanted to win something, so I thought I might give him some advice beforehand.”

“Well, a mom can’t start early enough to teach her children how to handle guns.”

“If you say so. I’d assume a dad, by contrast, can start to teach his children later, or at least send the security warnings ahead,” she replies. Jaime turns his head in that same direction, only just to see Joffrey wriggling one of the rifles around in the air, evidently in a verbal fight with one of the carnies on the edge of turning ballistic.

“Oh crap!” Jaime shouts.

“I think you want to handle that,” the woman says, offering a sympathetic grimace.

“I don’t want to, but I have to.”

“Good luck,” the woman with brilliant blue eyes says, waving at him as Jaime rushes ahead to where Joffrey starts to grab more and more attention. Once there, Jaime simply grabs the rifle the boy is busy using for intimidation.

“You will let go of that right now,” Jaime warns the boy as he keeps grabbing for it.

“But that guy’s rigged! The whole stall is rigged! He’s cheated!” Joffrey cries.

“And that guy will call security if you don’t cut that out right now,” Jaime snarls. “You will let go now and apologize to the good man here.”

“I will…,” Joffrey seethes.

“Or else you will spend the rest of the evening…,” Jaime snaps, raising an eyebrow at him.

“In the backseat,” the boy huffs, trying his best to act unimpressed.

“The trunk,” Jaime corrects him.

“_Right_.”

His uncle narrows his eyes at the boy. “You don’t want to challenge me on that one.”

“I would tell mom,” Joffrey insists.

“And I would tell her about your little adventure right here, even though she forbade you to even go near the shooting games,” Jaime argues.

“But…”

“Apologize. Now.”

“… I am sorry,” Joffrey seethes at last, forcing each syllable through his snapped jaws as though they were solid. Neither the carny nor Jaime are under any illusion that the teen means any of the three words just spoken, though.

“My deepest apologies,” Jaime says, offering an apologetic smile at the man sitting on the other side of the colorful booth. “He’s a difficult boy.”

“You don’t say.”

“He didn’t have his afternoon nap, then he’s always antsy,” Jaime adds, ignoring the teenager glowering at him, only ever pleased to see that the carny sets back down in his chair, which tells Jaime that at least some of the tension is dissolving at last.

“I hope we can resolve this without making a further fuss about it. I’d assume you just want to go on with business, yes?” Jaime goes on to say.

“So long the boy ain’t coming back to cause trouble, I’m willin’ to let it slide,” the carny thankfully confirms. “This one time.”

“I will see to that myself, thank you,” Jaime assures him, thrusting a fifty stag bill into the man’s hand along with a set of plastic chips. “I will take some shots, if that’s alright? I want to teach my nephew here a quick shooting lesson before we go.”

“Be my guest, sir,” the man says with a small nod, stuffing the chips into the respective box while quickly letting the stag bill disappear in his chest pocket.

Jaime takes the rifle from the boy who is on the verge of another angry hissy fit, but the older man can’t find it in himself to bother to care, so Jaime quickly takes aim and shoots down one of the roses with every target he aims for.

“So much to how all this was all rigged,” Jaime whispers. “Maybe next time you bother to double-check before you blame others for your inability, hm?”

Joffrey’s eyes turn to the narrowest of blue slits. He crosses his arms over his chest, fuming, looking like the cover boy for the _Pouty Teenager Magazine_, if such a thing were to exist, and Jaime surely hopes it does not.

“You can pick one of the prizes over there or two from over here, sir,” the carny tells Jaime. “You hit every target, sir.”

“I’ll take the pink flower and the plush kitten over there, thank you.”

The carny nods as he plucks a pink plastic flower and the reddish brown plushy from the wall to hand over to Jaime. “Here you go, sir.”

“Thanks another time,” Jaime says, offering another apologetic smirk.

“No problem… I think I understand.”

Jaime gives a small salute before dragging the boy away from the booth, making for the _Tombola_ with fast strides.

Against his wishful thinking, Jaime honestly dares to doubt he’d have any ability to keep a family of his own from manslaughter, if he can’t even handle his own bloody nephew for longer than five minutes without having the little guy nearly shoot someone.

“I don’t want to see that another time tonight, you understand that?” Jaime snarls.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Joffrey grumbles under his breath.

“Certainly, but then again… I am the guy supposed to drive you back… and if you push your luck just a little further, I may very well make you walk home.”

“Mom would lynch you.”

“And you know what? At this point, I think it might be worth the sacrifice. But do you really want to humiliate yourself like that?” Jaime argues. “There are so many kids from your school, I am sure they’d die to see that.”

There is only a split second, but in it, Joffrey’s eyes widen impossibly much, telling Jaime that he definitely hit a nerve there. While the teen quickly recovers to act indifferent again, Jaime dares to hope that it will shut him up for at least a while.

“Uncle Jaime!” Tommen and Myrcella call out as they see the two approach.

“Any luck with the tickets yet?” he asks.

“Tommen got me a necklace,” Myrcella says, showing him a cheaply produced metal necklace with an engraved lion. “But I couldn’t get anything for him just yet.”

He is glad to see that at least the two seem to get along, and if he is not mistaken, Myrcella actually forgot about her phone for five minutes to bother with the tickets, feeling the urge to get something for her overly sweet brother in turn. They were much closer when they were smaller, but ever since Myrcella went to Dorne, Tommen found himself caught up between his mother and his older brother – and Jaime can only feel sorry for the boy. Tommen is thus all the more eager to be around his sister when she is around, though Myrcella is oftentimes too busy thinking about Dorne while not in Dorne to see what’s right in front of her cellphone screen.

“Well, lucky for you, your brother has been very invested in getting something for you two. See what Joffrey won for you,” Jaime says, presenting the plush cat to Tommen and the plastic flower to Myrcella. “To reconcile after the little fight you had in the car.”

“Oh wow!” Myrcella says, making a face, certainly not buying into the lie Jaime tells, but thankfully being graceful enough not to call him out on it.

“This one looks just like Ser Pounce!” Tommen shouts out excitedly, pressing the animal tightly against himself. Much like the wolf plushy, however, the cat makes a weird noise once the squeaker turns on, making it sound like the poor thing smoked seventy cigarettes a day for the past ten years.

Tommen frowns at the cat for a moment, but then continues to hold it tightly against himself, shrugging at the sound because apparently, the plushy fur is enough for him to hold it dear.

_He really is too good for this family. _

“You should properly thank your brother for that,” Jaime goes on with a dark grin. “He put so much effort into it. I bet he wants a hug.”

Joffrey glowers at him as the other two go ahead and embrace him, trapping the teenager between the younger siblings and the plush kitten.

“They are touching me,” he groans, frozen in motion, reminding Jaime of an opossum trying to act dead to distract its aggressor.

“Isn’t that nice?” Jaime chimes, feeling somewhat satisfied with himself right now.

“Joffrey, how about you go for the _Bumper Cars_ next?” Jaime goes on once the other siblings withdraw from him. “I think you might like it. No one can rig those games, and people will very much appreciate you hitting them as hard as you can?”

Joffrey wants to say something, but then gives the ride another look. “Fine.”

“Splendid, then off you go! Have fun.”

The oldest sibling walks off, shaking himself once before getting in queue for the Bumper Cars, only to get into an argument to seemingly get ahead of some people. _Of course_.

“He is in a good mood tonight,” Tommen comments, watching his older brother.

Jaime makes a face. “_That_ is a good mood?”

The two siblings nod their head simultaneously, and answering in perfect unison, “You don’t know what he is like on a bad day.”

“Yeah, and I don’t think I want to find out either,” Jaime mutters under his breath.

“No, you don’t,” Tommen agrees.

“You definitely don’t,” Myrcella says as well, likely all the happier that she has minimal exposure to her older brother ever since she went to the boarding school in Dorne, leaving only poor Tommen to deal with his brother’s _temperament_, as Cersei calls it, when most others would use quite a stronger term to describe it.

“I will remember that. So…,” Jaime sighs, looking around. “Where do you two want to go next?”

“_Not_ the _Bumper Cars_,” Tommen announces. “Joffrey is going to kill me.”

“He actually might, I fear, so yeah, maybe for the best that we leave those for later,” Jaime confirms, grimacing. “Perhaps you want to go on some of the smaller rides next? I reckon it’s better to go on those before you stuff yourself with food, hm?”

“Oh, how about the _River Rapids Ride_?” Myrcella calls out once she catches sight of the thing close by. “I _love_ water! And Trystane took me to one back in Dorne! Oh wait, I should send him a picture of that!”

“Well, it has no loop, at least,” Tommen says with a grimace, clutching the plushy all the tighter, but before he can express any of his own wishes, Myrcella long since grabbed him by the arm and starts to pull him away, whether the boy wants to or not.

“Let’s go. The queue is not that long right now,” the sisters urges him as they go, already fidgeting for her phone. “I need to take a picture to send to Trystane! More than one, actually. I need to get the right angle and…”

“Have fun, you two,” Jaime says, waving his hand as the two rush off again, or rather, as Myrcella rushes her brother off so she can continue to stay in Dorne, if only inside her phone. The two don’t see him and are long since moving on with the fair experience, leaving Jaime standing there, feeling like an idiot.

This is more work than Jaime ever thought a visit to the fair could prove to be.

He looks around, trying to orientate himself in a place forcing him into the realization just how much he feels out of place. He can see Tommen and Myrcella, alright, Joffrey is where he is supposed to be, albeit not how he would want him to be as he climbs into one of the scooters with sheer fury in his eyes. The one person Jaime fails to spot to offer some kind of navigation is his brother, apparently.

For what it seems, Tyrion didn’t tell him about the part of his plan wherein he left everything to the older brother to sort out on his own. Though that may explain the younger man’s confidence in his plan, upon reflection.

_Traitor, really. _

Jaime lets his gaze wander further. Sadly, he lost the tall woman with those big blue eyes after having to prevent Joffrey from being taser-ed by the security. Talking to her proved oddly refreshing, a welcome distraction. And Jaime can’t deny himself that there is a bit of curiosity in him about that woman, wanting to know more about her, wanting to ask her why she knows how to shoot that well, among other things.

However, he tries not to get too excited, entertaining potential scenarios. After all, she has a kid. And if she has a kid, that makes it all the more likely that the kid’s father is somewhere around here and Jaime should have long since moved on from the thought of her mile-long legs. The guy is likely sitting at home, watching the game Jaime himself is recording for later. Or he might be sitting right next to his little brother at the rainbow-booze-bar to get completely wasted, if that is where Tyrion still is.

_If that is so, the guy is definitely beneath her_, Jaime thinks, making himself frown at that, because how the hell would he know? And why should he care?

Jaime casts those scenarios aside and instead focuses on the task at hand – making sure everyone makes it back from the fair in one piece.

“Which means I am playing chaperone for the terrible trio all by myself,” Jaime grunts dismissively before continuing his path past brightly shining rollercoasters, past children screaming and getting cotton candy and gum in their hair the parents then have to pick out again.

Jaime is simply glad that the kids he is looking after tonight are old enough so not to require the amount of parental or rather _avuncular_ care, because the last thing he needs is having to drag beansprouts around who scream and shout and cry even more than dear Joffrey does in his hormone-ridden _puberty-gone-wrong_.

_One crybaby is one too many already_.

To get at least some kind of feel for the fair again, Jaime decides to treat himself to a snow cone with red syrup from one of the nearby food stands. While he couldn’t tell what fruit it is supposed to taste like, it undoubtedly tastes… _red_. It reminds him of the fairs he attended as a kid, though, which adds a pleasant aftertaste. There was nothing like snow cones on a hot summer night at the Rock, when the head was still reeling from a rollercoaster with the many loops. And apparently, all fairs have the same red syrup tasting of just the same shade of red.

Jaime can’t help but smirk once he settled down on one of the few empty benches to observe a small girl getting a first taste of a snow cone as her mother gives her a spoonful of the green _flavor_. The girl’s eyes open unnaturally wide, before clapping her hands excitedly, asking for more, to which the young mother happily complies.

And he also can’t help but wonder what that must be like, to have one’s own child beam up at you like that…

“Is that seat taken?” he can hear a voice beside him. Jaime whips his head around, shocked to see the tall blonde woman from earlier standing before him.

“What? No, no, please,” he says, gesturing at the empty space beside him, nearly dropping the cone in the process, though thankfully, Jaime manages to balance out before the ice can drop on the bench.

“Thank you,” the woman answers, flashing a nervous smile before settling down beside him.

Jaime can observe that she apparently now has a bag, supposedly from one of the gift shops as a gigantic clown’s face is printed on it. The plush wolf sticks out halfway, though upside-down. The woman pulls one leg up to her chest and starts to undo her shoe laces. Jaime frowns, something in the back of his mind vaguely registering the words “quite flexible,” as she takes off the shoe and shakes it out. A small stone falls to the ground and the tall woman sighs with utter relief.

“Apparently, there are no benches near the rides for _some_ reason,” she says, maybe to herself, maybe to him, Jaime is not quite sure. He is busy watching her slip her foot back into the blue sneakers and that tiny bit of pale skin exposed by her ankle.

She puts her foot back down and tests it a few times, allowing herself to exhale one more time once she realizes that all stones are gone for good.

“And so we meet again,” Jaime laughs.

“Apparently,” the blonde woman replies with an uncertain smile, brushing a loose strand of her short-cropped hair behind her right ear as she leans back against the backrest of the wooden bench.

“I see you are enjoying your snow red?” she asks, certainly trying to act casual, though Jaime can tell at once that the woman struggles a lot, seemingly unsure whether he wants to uphold conversation for real or was just trying to be polite.

To give her a hint, Jaime turns his body slightly towards her, flashing a bright smile. “One of the few childhood memories I connect to fairs, actually. Red snow cones.”

“That was always the first stand I went to at any fair I went to,” the woman recounts.

“And now you did away with the tradition? How sad,” he chuckles, but then she sticks her tongue out, revealing it as colored blue. Jaime laughs at that, though the woman is quick to suck her tongue back in, covering her mouth with her right hand, straight-up embarrassed all of a sudden.

“So you like your snow blue,” he comments, trying to ease some of the tension he can feel building up by sticking out his own red tongue, which has the woman sheepishly grin behind her hand. Because apparently, having conversation with the tall blonde puts Jaime much more at ease than anything else he did this entire evening until now.

“They all taste the same, but I like the color,” she answers after a moment, slowly removing her hand from her mouth again. “It reminds me of home.”

“Same here,” Jaime comments.

“… I hope you could resolve the issue by the _Balloon and Dart Game_ booth?” she goes on after a while.

“Yeah, that is actually part of my real-life job,” Jaime answers, to which she only ever makes a face. “Getting teenagers out of trouble is your real-life job?”

“No, but keeping the family business out of self-produced trouble,” Jaime huffs.

And that is actually much closer to the truth than he should likely admit to a perfect stranger he only ever shares a passion for snow cones with. Jaime, since his early years in life, always found himself pushed into the role of the mediator between the natural forces of Tywin Lannister, Cersei Lannister, and Tyrion Lannister. They always argue, did so ever since Tyrion could speak, apparently.

Now that all work in the same office in King’s Landing, Jaime can’t say that things improved. Quite on the contrary, in fact. Cersei tries anything within her powers to undermine Tyrion’s standing in the company. Tyrion tries to prove Tywin Lannister wrong by proving him right and always causing trouble. And Jaime has to live with the fact that his sister is jealous of him for being framed by their father as his successor even though Cersei likens herself in that position so much more.

In the end, most of his time at the office is spent mitigating trouble his family causes instead of being effective at what Jaime knows they can do, and failing to be more effective, if only they could put their talents together instead of using them against one another.

So yes, Jaime’s job is to keep the family at bay.

_And they can’t pay me enough money for that in a lifetime. _

“I see,” the woman answers, frowning, though she is graceful enough not to dig further into the matter.

“And where did you leave your boy at?” Jaime asks.

“He is hardly a boy anymore,” she argues, nodding ahead, “but right now he is on the _Windseeker_.”

“Yeah, I won’t go anywhere near that thing with a ten-foot pole,” Jaime comments, looking over to the ride not far away, spinning people high, high in the air to make them seek not just wind but air to fill their lungs. “A ride on that guarantees you a run to the restrooms once you are back on the ground for sure.”

“He is aware of the risks,” the blonde woman points out to him. “I made sure of that before he went.”

“Then why would he go? Looking for the thrill of throwing up or what?” he snorts.

“You know how it is with teenagers. Always trying to impress others,” she sighs.

Jaime smirks at that, realization dawning on him at last. “Ohhhhh, so he wants to impress a girl, I take.”

That would explain the shooting lessons as well. He wanted to win something for the girl of his fancy.

“Not just any girl but yes,” she confirms Jaime’s suspicion.

“Which makes you the fifth wheel, I suppose,” he chuckles, offering a supportive glance to her.

“I don’t mind,” she insists, shrugging her broad shoulders. “I am glad to be of help. They are doing each other really good, I believe. But you know teenagers… always so complicated when it comes to the matters of the heart.”

“Oh, the squirming, the sweaty palms, and awkward glances – good old times,” Jaime chimes.

“Something like that,” she says with a small smile, glancing upwards to see the _Windseeker_ spinning above.

“Let me guess, you and your husband met under the same circumstances? Because that would make this ever the more hilarious… albeit romantic,” Jaime says.

He reckons it might be best to head the issue straight ahead so that his lizard brain will finally get the message as well and stop thinking about her ankles. She likely has a husband, at the very least a fiancé or boyfriend, and he is wasting his time thinking about that when he should better eat up the snow cone before it’s watery, lukewarm syrup again.

The woman turns her attention away from the attraction abruptly to stare at him instead. “I beg your pardon?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Huh? I thought you were just trying to keep your son from making the dad’s mistakes by teaching him how to do those things right,” Jaime answers, blinking. Because that would make sense to him. This woman strikes him as someone to take matters into her own hands.

“I don’t know his father,” she argues, her frown impossibly deepening.

“Oh, so… IVF or adoption or what?”

“… You _do_ realize that this is a rather personal thing to ask a stranger, yes?” the woman returns, making a face edging on exasperation.

Jaime’s mouth opens and closes a few times. Upon reflection, you _definitely_ don’t ask a lady you barely know – _or at all_ – if she had a doc put a baby up her lady bits. Jaime screws his eyes shut, holding back a groan. He _really_ got rusty when it comes to talking to ladies, as Tyrion warned him, far too many times to the count. And now feels any urge to take his red snow cone to put on his head to complete the picture of the utter clown he feels himself to be right at this moment.

_Since when am I so bad at all this? _

“I wasn’t meaning to,” Jaime assures her quickly. “I just… I just thought that your husband was around here, so I am surprised to hear that he isn’t the boy’s dad. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy or… imply something. I was just…”

She blinks at him. “What? Husband? What are you even talking about? I am not married. And Podrick is not my son.”

“But when I referred to him as your son, you didn’t deny it, so I thought that you were…,” Jaime argues, his voice trailing off, surprised when the woman leans her head back with a sigh, sounding about as annoyed at herself as he is irritated with himself for asking a woman he barley knows whether she’s had an IVF.

“Oh, I must have missed that in the loud crowd,” she answers at last. “No. He is not my biological son. I took him in, as part of a foster care program.”

“Ah! So you are his foster mom.”

That explains that part, at least.

“That is supposedly the legal term for it, but I consider myself simply… a helping hand, if you will. He is a teenager, no small child anymore, so I am not his mother or foster mother, really,” the woman replies sheepishly, but then goes ahead to ask, “And what of your boy? Is he _your_ boy… if you don’t mind my asking?”

“No, he is not my boy most definitely…,” Jaime answers, muttering “gladly” only under his breath, which she doesn’t catch, thankfully. “He is my nephew, though. I am here with my twin sister’s three children whom my brother and I were forced to take to the fair tonight.”

“_Forced_?” She makes a face.

“She has a way with people, let’s say,” Jaime answers.

_Though really, she doesn’t have a way with people, she just gets her way with people. _

“And where is your brother hiding at?” she questions, looking around.

Jaime shrugs his shoulders. “Presumably under one of the bars in one of the booths over there, but I am not entirely sure.”

“Don’t you care go looking for him?” she asks, frowning. She frowns a lot, Jaime realizes, and he can’t really blame her. Up until now, he would grade his conversation abilities at a steady “straight-up miserable.”

“He abandoned the ship early on, so if he wants to drown in liquor, that is his problem, not mine,” Jaime answers. “I will keep watch over the children and drive at the exact time we agreed on, whether he is there or not.”

“That sounds rather cruel,” she comments.

“It’s not nearly as cruel as it sounds, because he promised support he never offered. Now I am stuck with one teenage boy with severe anger issues, one teenage girl who is as sweet as sugar, I grant you, but would rather spend her time back in Dorne than be stuck with the family, to be with her little _Dornish Lover Boy_, and then there is the youngest who… I think would be happiest at home, with his cat.”

“Quite a diverse bunch.”

Jaime shakes his head. “I am glad that I only ever have them on occasion, because that means I don’t have to deal with that all day long. Yours seems rather easy-care, though.”

He dares to think that he could take better care of her boy than he finds himself able to take care of someone like Joffrey.

“Pod is a kind young man,” she replies, flashing a small smirk as she glances up the rollercoaster he is currently on, high in the air. “We had our differences at first, but as of now… I think we manage.”

Now it is Jaime who frowns. “What would you two disagree upon?”

“When I took him in, I thought he was a good-for-nothing. Because I believed that a young man his age would… know certain things. I didn’t take in a small child, after all. Well, when he settled in at home… Pod didn’t even know how to operate a washing machine. And showing him once or twice didn’t do the trick, _at all_… I think we had to call the plumber three times within two weeks. And to this day, I have no clue how he managed to get so much washing powder into the compartment that that the entire room was full of foam. Even the plumber didn’t know.”

“I think none of the three I am taking care of right now would even know the difference between a dish washer and a washing machine,” Jaime scoffs.

“Spoiled much?” she snorts.

“Oh, their mother wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jaime sighs.

The tall woman shrugs her shoulders. “Let’s just hope they will be rich as well, or else their world-picture will shatter… quite fast.”

“Oh, I pray to the Seven every day that they will live off of inherited wealth for the rest of their days,” Jaime argues. Otherwise, they are all doomed because neither one knows how to take care of themselves thanks to their mother’s negligence of teaching them just those things. That is the downside of being raised rich and overly protected, you actually don’t get to learn things you need to be independent.

_But those things are lost on Cersei Lannister, apparently. _

“Well, in any case, Pod was proving… not at all what I expected him to be. He also managed to kill my toaster and my coffee machine, on the same day. He also addressed me as ‘sir’ the first couple of times, so I was… not particularly pleased with that in the beginning, I will admit,” the woman goes on. “There were… quite some frictions.”

“Ouch.” Jaime winces sympathetically. While she does look mannish, addressing her as “sir” is really over the top. After all, he’s never seen a man with such legs and fine ankles in his entire life.

“And I myself very much failed to anticipate what it actually took to take care of a teenager… despite all the reading I did beforehand… I made one mistake after the other, so I suppose us two are even by now, at least I hope so,” she ponders, frowning.

It leaves Jaime wondering for a second whether he is apparently not the only one feeling like a complete failure when it comes to taking care of children. Though this woman is definitely three steps ahead of him, because she dared to make the jump and take care of this boy and make the best out of it whereas Jaime has to shamefully admit that he is only glad to drop the terrible three off at their mother’s place once the night is over.

_And that should tell me all I have to know about my parenting skills. It seems I am not made out of the stuff it takes to be a father._

“I bet he won’t complain much,” Jaime assures her quickly. “Not many boys can pride themselves being given private shooting lessons to impress the girls of their fancy.”

“Some habits die only very slowly, if at all,” she sighs.

“Army?” Jaime suggests.

“Navy.” She smiles.

“Ah. That explains it,” he says, only ever admitting to himself how thrilled he is about hearing that. He served in the military himself for many years, happily so. And for a time, he thought he’d be a soldier for the rest of his days, but then his hand injury happened and he was off active duty. And then came the _Aerys Affair_, which proved to close any door for the man thereafter known as the Kingslayer within the military.

“You?”

“Army.”

“Ah.”

“I believe we both forgot something very important, though,” Jaime then says.

“Which would be?” she asks.

He holds out his free hand to her. “The name’s Jaime Lannister. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh. I… I am Brienne, Brienne of Tarth. Pleased to meet you, too,” she answers, quickly shaking his hand.

“Tarth, as in the island Tarth?” he asks.

“The one and only,” Brienne confirms.

“That definitely explains the fancy for blue,” Jaime laughs, though by his own admission, he must say that he suddenly feels a strong urge for a blue snow cone. “And what brings you to King’s Landing?”

“The business, for one part. The family company expanded and we are now opening a sub-branch here,” he explains. “It makes meeting with business partners much easier as most are located here and don’t want to go through the trouble of coming to the isle by ship or plane every time there is a meeting with investors.”

“… And the other part?” Jaime asks, suddenly feeling his stomach turn.

What if she says that she moved here because of the boyfriend?

And why does he bother with that so much?

_Seven Hells, maybe I accidentally got a snow cone with vodka in it. _

“Private life, really,” the woman answers.

“I mean, you don’t have to specify. I was just curious…,” he says, his voice trailing off, but Brienne goes on to explain, “It’s, uhm… I mean, I wasn’t here all the time. I was at Winterfell before I moved to King’s Landing, after… Catelyn Stark’s death. I don’t know if you heard about it, but…”

Jaime sighs, leaning forward with a grimace. “Yeah, I did. Car accident with half the family gone… tragic.”

“It was,” she agrees, letting her head hang low.

“I actually knew their father personally.”

Brienne blinks at him. “You did?”

“… We didn’t get along that well, Ned and I, but yes, he was a friend of Robert’s, my sister’s ex-husband. So we made the acquaintance before. We also served around the same time I did… until I had to drop out,” Jaime recalls. It’s been some time since he last thought about Ned Stark, or the Starks in general. His father never much liked the family, always having perceived them as a threat to their thriving business monopoly.

Jaime, for his part, always hated Ned Stark for how he came to regard him after the Aerys Affair was dealt with. That guy never bothered with Jaime’s side, and at some point, Jaime said to himself that Ned Stark had no right to judge him the way he did. Over time, Ned Stark faded from his mind, but when they met again in King’s Landing after Robert hired him as his right-hand man in the company, Jaime only ever felt reminded of how Ned Stark lived the life Jaime knew he never would, with children, a family, and all that came attached to it.

_Though, in the end, all it takes is one wrong turn, and all happiness gets crashed by circumstance. _

“Right, I almost forgot… there was that,” Brienne says, her lips curling into a frown at the implication Jaime made about his dishonorable end of service at the military.

“_That_ as in the Aerys Affair?” Jaime chuckles softly. “Yes, there was that.”

A part of him wants to feel bitter, but another, curiously much stronger than it usually is, is far more eager to focus on the taste of red pulsating on his tongue, and the sound of Brienne’s voice in his ear, overshadowing even the shrill music from the attractions.

“… Did you know Catelyn as well?” Brienne asks, chewing on her bottom lip with a pensive expression. For what it seems, she tries to figure out whether Jaime is trustworthy enough to talk to about those matters. Brienne doesn’t strike him as someone who talks about private matters with just any stranger, after all.

“I did, actually,” Jaime confirms. “Back in the day, I attended an all-boy boarding school at Riverrun. So I saw Cat around a couple of times, when my father came by to have conversation with the Tullys about business dealings.”

“So you knew them.”

“A bit,” he answers. “… And how did _you_ get involved into all this?”

“I worked for Catelyn for a while, until the accident happened. I felt obliged to help where I could. You see, the children had all been sent to boarding schools across Westeros thereafter. Arya transferred over to Braavos, Jon was firmly integrated at Castle Black, Bran and Rickon were also off to a boarding school in the North. And it so happened that my father wanted to open up the branch in King’s Landing, where Sansa was attending school.”

“So you went there to have an eye on her,” Jaime concludes.

She shakes her head. “I wanted to, but she refused. I thought I might give her the distance at first. Then I ran into Podrick and that had me caught up for a while. I kept an eye on her despite her urging me not to. Things got hairy when she got in with some shady people.”

“That’s never any good.”

“No, it never is… let’s just say I got her out of that after one late-night phone call from the Eyrie. I brought her back to King’s Landing. She then went back to boarding school there and has since been doing much better. When Sansa is on holidays, she often comes over to our apartment, if she doesn’t visit her siblings. She and Podrick grew very close over time.”

“And the two cozied up since?” he chuckles.

“I believe she likes Podrick because he has no ulterior motives whatsoever. He’s the first boy her age she made the acquaintance of who didn’t demand anything from her and really just wanted to be around her,” Brienne ponders.

“She told you that?”

Brienne smiles. “Yes, but only in secret, of course.”

“And so dear Podrick still thinks he has to win her over when he already has,” Jaime snickers.

_Ah, the wonders of youth indeed._

“If there is one thing I meant to teach him, then it is that he has to act chivalrously, so yes, he _has_ to win her over.”

“Quite the old values, Miss Tarth.”

“Just because they are old doesn’t mean they no longer mean anything,” she insists, her eyes drifting off for a moment. “I think the world would be a far better place if all of us stuck to some of the… _old values_… a little more.”

Jaime shrugs. “True again.”

“I just really hope he doesn’t hurl.”

“That’s up to the Gods to decide now.”

She huffs. “Don’t you find that a bit overly dramatic?”

“Prayer can’t harm?”

“Oh, so you are religious?”

He snorts. “Not at all.”

She frowns at him, but then her attention drifts over to a family passing them by. Jaime watches her observing the parents with their three kids. If he didn’t know better, he’d say there is longing reflecting in her big blue eyes as Brienne keeps her gaze on the couple as they loosely hug one another before leaning into a kiss while the kids chase around their legs, shooting colorful paper streamers at one another.

The children continue to spin their circles larger and larger whereas Jaime’s mind spins around itself and over the fact that Brienne, by her own admission, is not married with kids. And from the sound of it, she doesn’t seem to be in a relationship either, which, in turn, sends his head spinning in a very narrow margin.

He knows this all to be ridiculous. Brienne seemingly has different things in mind, but for Jaime, that’s the one thing keeping his hand spinning like the rides whooshing past them above their heads. 

Jaime is just about to say something to Brienne, turning to her, when he only sees colorful dots before his eyes. He blinks to clear his vision, only to realize that the kids with the paper streamers also happened to have some kind of confetti pistol – and shot it right at Brienne’s head.

“Oh my God! I am so sorry!” the mother shouts, rushing over to the bench. “Adam! Apologize! That was very unkind of you.”

“But we were throwing a parade, ma!” the boy, _Adam_, insists.

“Apologize, now! All of you!” his mother insists, wriggling her index finger at them.

“We are sorry,” the kids say at exactly the same time, in the kind of voice that tells Jaime that they had enough practice to bring it out in such perfect synchrony. So yes, this lot is definitely up to some trouble on a more regular basis.

“It’s quite alright,” Brienne assures them, and then the upset mother another time as well, “It really is.”

“You leave them out for a second and they are up to some trouble,” the woman sighs.

“I understand.”

“Well, sorry again. Do you need any help or…,” the mother asks, gesturing at Brienne’s confetti-decorated head.

“I can handle myself, thank you. I believe you may want to see after your kids because they have found a new target,” Brienne says, pointing behind her where the kids decided to sneak up on an older woman with a stroller.

“Adam! Maggy! Jeremy! All of you! Stop and come back! John, do something already! Don’t just stand by and watch! You are their parent, too!” She turns back to Brienne. “I will have to take care of that, I am afraid. Sorry another time. I hope your husband will help you take care of that. Sorry again and bye! Have a great night!”

She rushes off before Brienne can open her mouth to protest.

Jaime sniggers to himself once he notes her distress but then decides to roll with it: “Well, I better do as the lady told me to.”

“I am sorry that she…,” Brienne mutters sheepishly, but Jaime cuts her off with a smile, “What would you be sorry for?”

Brienne doesn’t comment and instead shakes herself to get rid of most of the confetti. Some remains stuck in her hair, however. Jaime, hoping to act somewhat gentlemanly for a change instead of asking her accidentally inappropriate questions, leans over to fish some of the colorful paper circles out of her blonde hair.

“Let me help you there,” he says, observing with a mixture of surprise and endearment how her entire body stiffens as he continues to fish the confetti out of her hair, seemingly having lost her ability to speak for a moment.

Jaime blinks when he finds his heart beating so much faster than usual but then ignores that in favor of helping her get back in order. Just as he is about to get the last bit of confetti, Jaime coils back abruptly with just one thought on his mind: _ice_.

“Shit!” he shrieks as cold creeps into the regions of his left thigh. A quick look down confirms that yes, he managed to drop the remains of his snow cone in his lap, the red masses spreading over his thigh, threatening to get close to the bits he wants to protect from the cold by any means. Jaime hurriedly wipes the red mushy ice away from his crotch and onto the ground with a splat.

“I look like I have been deflowered!”

Brienne makes a face. “I dare hope you were not – by a snow cone.”

“I dare hope so, too.”

Jaime watches as Brienne dives into her cheap bag and fishes out a whole stack of napkins and a bottle of water. She holds the latter out to him.

“You have two choices at this point: let it dry and make it look like there is blood on your jeans or pour some water over it to make it perhaps wetter but at least make it look less like something died on your pants.”

“Both are so tempting, though.”

She cocks an eyebrow at him. Jaime scowls, but then takes the bottle to pour over his leg to see the red float to the ground below until the water is clear again. He blinks when Brienne just goes ahead to put some napkins down on his leg before stuffing some more in his palm to apply the same method to the regions she likely doesn’t want to touch a stranger at.

Though a small voice in the back of Jaime’s head taunts him, telling him to ask her anyway and test his luck. He evidently votes against it and instead busies himself with wiping up the water the best he can. Jaime wouldn’t want to scare her away, after all.

“Where did you get those napkins?” he asks instead.

She shrugs at him. “I always take a whole bunch from the first food stand I go to. They have plenty enough not to miss a few. You never know what accidents happen at a fair.”

“Such as a man being deflowered by a red snow cone?” he laughs.

“Such as that,” Brienne agrees, but her attention snaps away from him suddenly. “Podrick!”

Jaime’s head shoots up as he sees the dark-haired boy walk, or rather stagger, over to them. He looks definitely paler than last he saw him.

“Are you alright?” Brienne asks.

“Perfect,” he answers, clearly lying.

“Where is Sansa?”

“She went to the restrooms. The queue was long.”

“Do you want to sit down?” Brienne asks with a grimace.

“I think it’s better if I keep standing for now,” Podrick answers, his features tight as a bowstring, trying his best not to hurl.

“Alright…,” Brienne mutters. “Oh, before I forget. Podrick, this is Mr. Lannister.”

“Hi, please ignore the wet pants. It was a snow cone accident,” Jaime says, waving at the young man.

“Ah. Okay… cool. I mean… Hi, uhm, Mr. Lannister.”

Jaime winks at him, hoping to relieve some of the tension building up. “You can call me Jaime if I get to call you Pod.”

He smiles at him, seemingly grateful for it. “Oh, alright.”

“So, you are trying to win the heart of the Lady of Winterfell, I take?” Jaime goes on.

Pod gapes at Brienne. “You told him?!”

“It’s rather obvious for anyone who can… you know, _see_…,” Jaime comments, well aware that Brienne is busy glowering at him just now, though he chooses to ignore it for now.

“Oh.” Podrick puckers his lips.

“How is it going thus far?” Brienne asks.

“Not good, I think… I fear? I mean… I almost hurled after the last ride. I don’t think that went well,” Podrick answers, letting his hand hang low.

“Maybe you want to try something else next time?” Brienne suggests. “Something that… doesn’t make you want to hurl?”

“Such as?”

“_Tunnel of Horror_!” Jaime calls out loudly, which earns him Brienne’s and Pod’s attention at once.

Brienne gapes at him wide-eyed. “What?!”

Jaime waves his hands in the air, surprising himself with the apparent giddiness he can feel bubbling up in his stomach. “Trust me. This will work out perfectly! If she gets spooked, guess whose arm she is going to cling on to with utter desperation.”

“Wouldn’t you think this is a cheap kind of manipulation?” Brienne narrows her eyes at him, though Jaime only ever shrugs at that. “If it works, it’s not.”

“And I suppose you have used this tried and trusted method to win some many young ladies over?” she scoffs. Jaime realizes the sharp turn in her voice, which is now much icier than the cone melting away in a red puddle by his feet.

He smiles at her. “Nah, I do that with my charming character and great wit… oh, and the hair.”

“_Aha_,” she says dismissively but then turns her attention back to the dark-haired boy. “Pod, just try to have some fun at the fair, alright? You put too much pressure on yourself.”

“But tonight is the night!” Pod insists.

“And there will be another night, another fair. There is no need for you to rush things,” Brienne argues, keeping her voice leveled.

“But we are back at high school soon enough and that means she will… doesn’t matter,” Podrick sighs, suddenly looking more defeated than nauseous. “I think I will give the _Tunnel of Horror_ a shot.”

“It works, trust me in this,” Jaime assures him.

“But ask her first,” Brienne intercedes. “I don’t know if Sansa might still be a bit spooked by those kinds of things.”

Pod nods his head. “Of course.”

With that, the teen rushes off again, leaving Jaime and Brienne alone on the bench, well, them and the red puddle. He is surprised when she whirls around to face him, her face holding only thinly veiled anger. “And now to you, why do you think is it your concern now what Podrick does with regards to Sansa?”

He shrugs. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Podrick can handle himself just fine. He doesn’t need to be a flirt expert in order to show Sansa that he genuinely cares for her.”

“You take me for a flirt expert?” Jaime wrinkles his nose.

“I take you for the type of a guy who doesn’t even have to bother to try to flirt,” Brienne answers. 

“You’d have no idea,” Jaime huffs.

_If only you knew the half of it._

“Well, what obstacles would _you_ have in your way?”

“I think that would be a bit too personal, wouldn’t you agree?” Jaime snorts. “And anyway, now don’t act so innocently. _You_ gave him shooting advice to heighten his chances with the Stark girl.”

“I would have told him the exact same thing had we gone alone. If I have something I can teach him, I will,” Brienne insists.

“Well, then why not accept advice from the _flirt master_?” he argues.

“So you _are_ a flirt master after all?” she scoffs.

Jaime shrugs. “You said there is no reason to doubt that I may be. So why wouldn’t I accept that honor?”

“Because that has absolutely nothing to do with honor.”

He grimaces, sensing that he seemingly hit a nerve there, though Jaime has no clue just what nerve that may have been.

Wanting to let actions follow his words, Jaime gets to his feet abruptly, wincing as he feels lukewarm water run down his left leg.

“So you are leaving?” she asks.

“What? No, I just want to see whether my plan works out,” Jaime informs her, though that only seems to fuel her anger.

“You don’t have to spy on Podrick,” Brienne says, narrowing her eyes at him.

“It’s _not_ spying, I am just looking,” Jaime argues. “Also, walking will hopefully make my pants dry faster. You know, let them get some fresh air.”

“Aha.”

“So?”

“So _what_?”

“Are you coming with?” he asks.

Brienne stands up as well, gathering her bag. “I won’t let you ogle at Podrick and Sansa once they come off the ride all by yourself, that’s for sure.”

He grins. “Most kind of you.”

The woman glowers at him before the two start to walk ahead. Jaime lets his eyes wander over the colorful lights and past the screaming children. He willfully ignores heir giggles and what the comments of how the tall man “peed his pants.”

“… Did I cross you in some way?” he asks after a while of nothing but the background noise of the fair between them.

“Not at all.”

“Oh, I definitely did. I know that voice.”

She frowns. “What voice?”

“This ‘you did something but I am not saying it until you figured it out yourself’ voice,” he explains.

She snorts at that. “Good to know that you are so acquainted to all those different voices.”

Once they reach the _Tunnel of Horror_, Jaime has to try hard not to laugh at the fake plastic witches and the even faker ghosts laughing over scratchy loudspeakers, though he will say that the shitty pictures of bats drawn on the walls are endearing in a way. Because all of them are cross-eyed.

“Wow, I expected this to be a bit… scarier,” he comments.

“It’s an attraction for kids.”

“Still.”

“I suppose the two are already inside,” Brienne ponders. “I can’t spot them in the queue.”

“Ah, there they are!” Jaime says, pointing ahead as one of the black doors with green lights opens and a cart with bats painted on it wheels out.

Jaime has to try hard not to laugh as the cart with the two teenagers come out on the other side of the Tunnel of Horror. Because contrary to what his estimation was, it isn’t Sansa holding on to Podrick for reassurance, but Pod, white as chalk, holds on to the red-haired girl as though his life depended on it, whereas the girl seems to have had a good laugh at whatever was going on inside.

“Well, that is unexpected,” Jaime laughs.

Brienne grimaces, watching the two wheel past them. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Not necessarily. I mean, the end result is basically the same. They _are_ holding on to each other.”

“He can be easily scared.”

“I think the _Tunnel of Horror_ is rather safe regardless of that fact, so no need to worry,” Jaime argues.

“And I can’t help but wonder why you concern yourself with Podrick when you have three other children to take care of.”

“Speaking of…,” Jaime mutters, turning around on the back of his heel.

Right, there was something.

_The Wrath of Cersei Lannister. Et cetera, et cetera. Et… oh no. _

“Well, shit!”

“You lost your nephews and niece, I assume?” Brienne huffs.

“I just don’t know where they are right now,” Jaime grumbles. Here he thought giving some good advice to a youngster may help him to feel less like the biggest loser when it comes to the family, but here he is again, having lost the three kids he was supposed to be looking after.

_Great job, Jaime, great job. _

“Which, by definition, means that you lost them,” Brienne scoffs.

“By definition, having lost them means that they never come back, but they are kids who wouldn’t know how to handle themselves if not for overwhelming inherited wealth guaranteeing their safety in any situation. So they are not lost, they are… momentarily unlocatable.”

“And now just imagine what they can do during that moment of _unlocatability_.”

“I am lost.”

“Precisely,” she affirms. “Well, let’s try to find them, then.”

He blinks at her, not quite believing what he hears. “You are helping me?”

She shrugs her broad shoulders. “You helped me with Podrick, as much as you could… and you dropped the cone because you were trying to help me with the confetti, so I suppose I owe you that much.”

“Ah, the power of oaths and promises,” he chimes.

“Don’t joke about that,” she retorts. “Promises mean something, at least they do to me.”

“Contrary to what is associated with our family, they mean something to me as well, you know?” he huffs.

“Oh?” Brienne blinks, seemingly caught off-guard by that. She coughs lightly to gather herself again before continuing, “Either way… do they have cellphones?”

“One of them most certainly,” Jaime mutters. “One of these days it will attach itself to her ear to find a new host.”

“Well, try to call your niece, then,” Brienne urges him. And Jaime will have to give her that much, Brienne certainly knows how to keep a plan even when things look dire. Very much like a mother would – though she doesn’t seem to view it the same way.

“Right,” Jaime mutters, fishing out his phone and hitting speed dial. He frowns at the screen. “It says the number is current unavailable.”

“The others?”

“The youngest one doesn’t have a phone yet, but maybe the oldest bothers to pick up…,” Jaime ponders, trying with Joffrey’s phone this time, but it only ever goes to voicemail, which is not a kind message, he may add, “… and nothing.”

“So we have to find them without it,” Brienne concludes.

“Appears so.”

“Well, from what I gathered, the oldest is always looking for a competition, yes?”

“A competition he is bound to fail and get an anger fit about, but yes.”

Jaime watches as she takes out a crumpled map that they had in transparent boxes by the entrance.

“You seriously took one of those?” He gapes.

She makes a face. “You didn’t?”

“This is a fair, I didn’t think I needed a friggin’ map to navigate through it.”

“Then you may have thought wrong, looking at the current situation,” she huffs.

“That you always have to bring that up!”

“I brought it up only just now!”

“That is one time too many already!”

“If that is what you think…,” Brienne sighs, her eyes dancing over the map already. “When did you approximately see him last?”

“Over at the _Bumper Cars_, maybe ten minutes ago?” Jaime answers, unable to help the smirk creeping up his lips as he watches Brienne figure out locations and distances, having gone completely into military-mode.

You may be able to take a soldier off duty, but you can’t get the training out of him or her in a lifetime, that’s for sure.

“Well, if he steadily walked in one direction, which I dare doubt, that gives us a radius of half a mile going from the _Bumper Cars_. If he went to at least one ride and or one booth, it would be even less… We can also exclude all those that we currently see… So, would he go to the same booths and attractions twice?” Brienne mutters, chewing on her bottom lip with a pensive expression, which Jaime finds all the more endearing because it comes with solutions he is desperate for at this point of time.

“He easily loses interest, low attention span and all, so I don’t think so… I _hope_ so,” Jaime answers, allowing her to take the lead. That woman definitely has her shit together when it comes to parenting, whereas Jaime… is shit at parenting.

“Then we can ignore these here,” Brienne concludes, tapping her index finger on colorful spots on the map designating each booth and ride. “We can further ignore kiddie rides, I assume.”

“Oh, definitely. He is not fond… of younger children. Just like younger children are not fond of him. It’s quite reciprocal on that one,” Jaime comments.

“Alright, that leaves us with one of these. You think any of those had more likability to grab his attention?” Brienne asks.

Jaime goes through the key on the map to figure out what each dot is standing for, before tapping his index finger on a blue one. “That one. _Dunk-a-Maester_. Anything that involves the humiliation of others must be at the top of his list.”

Brienne nods her head, folding the card back up. “Then we should check that out first.”

“And what of your two lovebirds?” Jaime asks.

Brienne points over to the two standing in a very long cue. “Before they get on the ride, we will be back. And I made sure that they have their cellphones with them and are instructed to call me in case they get lost.”

“Yeah, just rub it in my face, I know I deserve it,” Jaime huffs. “Either way, we should get going.”

“Yes,” she agrees.

They start to push past the crowds of people, having to dodge a couple of children nearly smudging their cotton candy against their legs. The fair is now in full swing, which means that more and more people keep pouring through the passages leading form one attraction to the next. And as Jaime keeps looking around, he can feel fear rising up inside him. Because what if someone pushed Tommen aside and he hurt himself? Or what if someone stole Myrcella’s cellphone and she decided to deck the guy to get it back? And what if Joffrey got his hands on a firearm?

“I never thought going to a fair would require that much effort – and logistics,” Jaime comments, his eyes set on anything remotely looking like his nephew.

“If there is one thing I realized ever since I took Podrick in, then it is that everything is a question of good logistics, or else you are completely screwed,” Brienne sighs, waving her hand in the air.

“Well, you seem to have a good handle on that,” Jaime argues.

_Much in contrast to me. Which is why I probably should finally abandon all hope of ever having a family. I would likely get someone into prison or killed. Or maybe both. _

“Far from it,” Brienne huffs. “I mean, I was not foreign to the concept of planning. That is part of the job I do. And I like to have things going in straight directions. But I underestimated how much that would change… everything going on in my life. I mean, Podrick is a teenager, he does his own thing. And I never wanted to force myself upon him just because I took him in. I am not the motherly type, really.”

“For that, you came across to me as his mother quite early on,” Jaime argues.

“Then that is definitely the wrong impression you’ve been getting, because I am not his mother in any way. I try to teach him some things and prepare him for an independent life. Whether that is going to successful? I don’t know, but that is the aim here. I am not here to mother him,” Brienne insists. “It’s just not who I am.”

“I would pay solid money having you sit down with my sister talking about those matters. She would not believe what she is hearing. My sister is… all into mothering in the sense of… helicoptering,” Jaime tells her, “nearing obsession.”

“Well, they are her children, so that’s different, I suppose.” She shrugs.

“I would take your way of raising the kids over hers any time,” Jaime snorts.

“For that assessment, you don’t seem to know enough about child education, no offense,” Brienne argues.

“No offense taken. I am the uncle who momentarily does not know their location. I know I am the loser of this fight.”

No, he is certainly not the person to turn to for parental advice, Jaime is aware, and grows even more aware with ever second passing in which the three kids he is supposed to be watching remain MIA.

“Well, even if so, I don’t pride myself knowing much of anything about child education either. As I said, Podrick is no child, he is not my child,” Brienne comments.

Jaime chuckles to himself as he looks around. It’s curious to see a woman who is so focused on not admitting to herself that she is a mother to that boy without a doubt that she doesn’t seem to realize that Podrick would likely call her his foster mother with a shrug of the shoulders.

Perhaps Jaime’s clan is not the weirdest either.

As it appears, family comes in every different, odd sorts of shapes.

“Found him!” Brienne suddenly shouts, pointing ahead to where Joffrey is busy tossing balls at one of the Maester’s heads instead of the target they are meant to hit.

“Thank the Seven!” Jaime yells. “He is Cersei’s most precious while not at all being precious.”

They rush up to Joffrey, who seemingly lost interest after repeatedly failing to hit either man or target.

“There you are!” Jaime calls out as they approach.

“Yeah? What are you doing here?” Joffrey scoffs.

“I was looking for you.”

The teenager only ever huffs at him. “Yeah, you do a crap job at that, don’t you?”

“Did you see your brother and sister somewhere?” Jaime asks, choosing to let that slide for now. After all, there are things with higher priority than teaching that boy manners. It’s likely a lost cause anyway, Cersei’s seen to that with her way of “parenting.”

“It’s not my job to watch them. That’s yours. And as it appears, you are pretty much the failure mom says you are,” Joffrey comments.

“Yeah, we all know I am the biggest loser of the family,” Jaime snorts, rolling his eyes. “But regardless of the fact that I am the loser and it was my job to watch your siblings, it may have been that you have seen them pass by as you tried to see as many Maesters getting wet as you could, which should give anyone pause if said out loud.”

Joffrey blows out air through his nostrils, crossing his arms over his chest. “I saw them last over by the food stalls over there. You know that Myrcella is now all about this fancy super food bullshit.”

“And Tommen was with her?” Jaime asks.

“Yup. Little shit can’t do anything by himself, it seems. But what do I care?”

Jaime claps the boy on the shoulder. “This may be the first time and perhaps even only time of this evening if not my whole life: You have been of great help, thank you.”

“Whatever.”

“Now, I will try to find your siblings,” Jaime goes on to say. “But I need you to stay around the area.”

“How about we all meet up by the Ferris wheel in, say, twenty minutes?” Brienne suggests.

Joffrey cocks an eyebrow at her. “What does _she_ have a say in this all of a sudden?”

“She is part of the searching party,” Jaime answers quickly.

“She looks like one of the bulky guys from the security, but hey, what do I care?”

“So can we agree on meeting at the Ferris wheel?” Jaime asks again.

“Sure. Whatever.”

“That is apparently one of his favorite words,” Jaime tells Brienne with a fake smile.

“I never would have realized,” she snorts.

“So, you will be there in twenty minutes sharp,” Jaime says another time, knowing that with Joffrey, you can’t make sure often enough.

“If you piss off now, yeah.”

“And don’t get into any more trouble,” Jaime warns him.

“You already gave your grand speech about the trunk of the car awaiting me, and I still don’t care.”

“No more did I expect of you.”

Joffrey huffs before turning around, looking for the next target to let all his energy and anger out. Really, that boy needs therapy more than anything else, but Cersei certainly won’t listen to Jaime after he nearly lost her kids at a fair. That much is for sure.

“I think this may have been the first time Joffrey has taken an order from a stranger, though I will apologize for him,” Jaime comments as they proceed in the direction Joffrey gave them. “He is… _difficult_.”

“I have dealt with those kinds of boys and even grown men for all my life, I don’t think a teenage boy who is clearly craving attention is going to break me,” Brienne assures him.

“And what did you do with the boys who behaved themselves like that?”

“Hm?” she blinks at him. “Knocked them into the dust.”

Jaime sniggers at that. “Pity you can’t do that with this one. Maybe he would learn a lesson from that. Tyrion once slapped him, the boy behaved like a saint for about a week.”

“You do not sincerely suggest that?” She grimaces.

“Not really, but an uncle can dream, can’t he?” Jaime huffs, looking around again. “But I suppose there is more urgent business to attend than this, right? I still have to track down the other two – and that in under twenty minutes or else the boy will be gone exactly after twenty-one minutes, I know him that much.”

“Well, he said that the food stalls were the last lead. We should head there first. Maybe they are still hanging out there to enjoy food and drink.”

“Hopefully. I honestly chased the children often enough for one night. And they are all more or less grown up by now.”

“Tell me about it,” Brienne snorts.

The two continue to the food stalls. After wading through masses of hungry people and children carrying around foods with dangerously colorful sauces, Jaime spots Myrcella and Tommen standing beside a booth, munching their respective meals. Tommen is busy eating some kind of cake on a stick whereas Myrcella nibbles on some fruit on a stick, all the while longingly looking over to the colorful cotton candy handed out to children across from where they are standing.

“There you are. I thought I had lost you!” Jaime calls out as he approaches.

“Sorry,” Tommen apologizes, bowing his head.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Jaime asks, turning to his older sister.

“I can’t!” Myrcella breaks out. “My battery died! I forgot to charge it before I went out and now I can’t text Trystane anymore. And that means this evening is _over_ for me!”

“… I am sorry for your loss,” Jaime huffs, but then reminds himself that yes, this is important to her, so he should take it more seriously, which is why he goes on to add, “We can charge it in the car, yes?”

She looks at him for a long moment, but then sighs. “… Fine.”

“Who are you?” Tommen asks, looking at Brienne.

“I am Brienne.”

“She is a _friend_,” Jaime tells the boy, who studies them both for a longer moment, before smiling. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“You didn’t see your uncle by any chance?” Jaime asks. After all, Tyrion supposedly headed there once and never returned, or so it was at least planned by that wicked little man without informing Jaime about it.

The two kids only ever shake their heads.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Brienne suddenly says, turning over to one of the food stands. Jaime reckons she wants to give them some space, for which he is grateful. He doesn’t need an audience being a terrible influence on children.

“I should’ve kept a better eye on you, I am sorry,” he apologizes.

“… I should’ve told you to where we were headed,” Myrcella argues.

“And I should have told her… to tell you,” Tommen says, puckering his lips into a nervous frown.

_That was easier than I thought… _

“So can we agree on a truce?” Jaime asks cautiously.

“Fine with me,” Myrcella answers.

“With me, too.”

Jaime claps his hands together. “Great!”

As if on cue, that is when Brienne returns, though Jaime can hardly see her as she carries two sticks with cotton candy.

“Your uncle asked me to get these for you,” she says, handing them to Tommen and Myrcella. Jaime frowns at her. He _definitely_ did not.

“I don’t think I should…,” Myrcella mutters uncertainly.

“It’s a fair, you can enjoy yourself and also have something sugary. It’s an exception to the rule,” Brienne assures her. Myrcella smiles faintly before taking the cotton candy from her, instantly plucking a chunk out to stuff into her mouth.

“Since when do you feed the kids I am taking care of?” Jaime asks quietly.

“I couldn’t stand her looking at the cotton candy like that. It’s a fair, they are supposed to have fun. And we adults are supposed to look out for them,” Brienne whispers back.

“Good point,” Jaime smiles happily, but then turns back to the kids. “So, can we entertain you with a ride on the Ferris wheel?”

“Oh yes!” both cry out.

“And I can’t take any pictures for Trystane,” Myrcella sighs in utter defeat, letting her head hang low.

“You can have my phone for the ride, okay?” Jaime offers. “Then we send the pictures to your phone once we are back in the car. Deal?”

The girl practically beams at him upon hearing that. “Thanks so much!”

“So, everyone happy?” Jaime asks.

“Yes,” Tommen confirms.

“Yes,” his sister agrees as well, already busy plucking pieces of pink cotton candy into her mouth.

“Good, then let’s go to the Ferris wheel. And no one goes elsewhere, yes?” Jaime asks.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“That’s the echo I want to hear,” he chimes.

And so, they start their next journey through the masses of people. Though this time, Jaime definitely makes sure to keep an eye on the two, constantly checking whether they are still where he saw them last. The fright he felt tightening in his chest the moment he realized he lost them should have taught him by now.

He may be a slow learner, but he learns.

At last, the gigantic Ferris wheel comes into sight, shining brighter than any ride of the whole fair. Jaime is not surprised to see Podrick and Sansa already there, because Brienne knows how to run her logistics, much in contrast to him. He is pleasantly surprised to see Joffrey there as well, however. Against all odds, the boy did not take off again. _Thank the Seven._

“So, it seems like our group grew larger in number,” Jaime says, looking at the redhead. “Hi, Jaime Lannister.”

“Pleased to meet you. I am Sansa,” the girl with red hair says, smiling at him.

“And those are my nephews Joffrey and Tommen and my niece Myrcella,” Jaime continues, gesturing at the rest of his family, except for his brother who remains lost.

“Hi.”

“Hi!”

“And that is Podrick,” Jaime then says to his family.

“You can call me Pod, though.”

“Hi,” Tommen says, waving at him. “You look kind of pale. Are you alright?”

“I am getting there,” Pod answers, screwing his eyes shut, which has Sansa snigger.

“Good, now that we all got acquainted, how about we get on the Ferris wheel, yes?” Jaime suggests. The prospect of having them all in one place is calming to his mind. Because that means there is no way he can lose either one of them out of sight.

“Yes!” all shout excitedly.

“Podrick? One moment please,” Brienne says, pulling the boy aside. She hands him a small box, clapping him on the back before sending him back to stand beside Sansa.

“What’s in that magic box?” Jaime asks quietly as they get in line.

“Her favorite sweets,” Brienne answers. “She _loves_ lemon cakes.”

“Ah. So you are also pushing his luck.” He grins.

Brienne shrugs, unable to keep back a smile herself. “A bit.”

“Traitor,” Jaime chuckles softly.

It takes a while until they can finally all climb into the open cabins. Jaime blinks when he and Brienne apparently end up in the same one, even though neither one bothered checking on it as they were busy looking out for the kids.

“And so we meet again – _again_,” he laughs.

“Apparently – _again_,” she answers, sitting down beside him, though her eyes are constantly on Podrick and Sansa as they climb into their cabin.

Jaime keeps an eye on Myrcella and Tommen in turn, pleased to see that the older sister makes sure that Tommen sits securely, now taking pictures of them together with Jaime’s phone, which is certainly new. Joffrey is climbs into the next, arms crossed over his chest, fuming. _Of course_. However, then the boy shrieks when suddenly, something moves beside him.

“What’s going on?” Brienne asks, turning around.

“I don’t know,” Jaime answers, but that is when he can spot his brother peeling himself out of a towel decorated with clowns, looking at Joffrey groggily and most definitely intoxicated.

“Unbelievable!” Jaime gasps.

“Your brother, I take,” Brienne comments.

“In fact,” Jaime answers. “Though I have no idea how he sneaked onto the thing without anyone’s realization and apparently took a nap there for Gods know how long.”

“Get off the ride, asshole!” Joffrey shrieks.

“Get out of my house! I live here now!” Tyrion calls out drunkenly.

“I can’t believe this! I am telling mom!” Joffrey seethes.

“She can’t live here either!”

“Your family is… quite something,” Brienne says with a small smile.

“Likewise,” Jaime returns.

Brienne smirks as the wheel sets into motion. Jaime allows his mind to blur out the noises of Tyrion and Joffrey continuing to argue over whose cabin this is, and instead focuses on the weightless feeling setting in his stomach as the wheel lets them climb high in the air until the people and lights below turn to tiny dots.

“Want to hear something funny?” Jaime asks.

“Why not?”

“I actually never was on a Ferris wheel,” he admits.

She frowns at him incredulously. “How so?”

Jaime only shrugs. “I normally went for the rides with loops as a kid.”

“And here I thought you tried to get all the pretty girls to ride the _Tunnel of Horror _with you, so they would hold on tight,” she snorts.

“Man, you are hung up on that, aren’t you?” Jaime huffs, shaking his head.

“I just don’t appreciate it when people use cheap tricks to get other peoples’ attention,” Brienne comments, stubbornly keeping her eyes fixed on either Podrick and Sansa or the stars peeking through the clouds once they reach the top again.

“You are such a hypocrite!” Jaime shouts. “You got those cakes for Pod!”

“That’s something different,” she insists.

“How?”

“It just is.”

He snorts. “Well, that is very elaborate.”

“I suppose it’s a bit too personal to share with strangers,” she grumbles, fumbling with the hem of her jacket.

“And here I thought we were already friends,” he pouts jokingly.

Though really, he would have hoped that she wouldn’t regard him as a total stranger anymore, but then again, that just seems to be Jaime’s streak of luck as of late, as his deflowered pants should attest.

“Did you?” she asks, seemingly very surprised by that.

“Aren’t we?” He blinks at her.

“Do you want to be?” Brienne questions, and Jaime starts to get an idea that she is about as uncertain as he is.

“Do you?” he asks back.

“I am running out of counter questions,” she huffs, covering her face with her right palm.

“So we can agree that we are no longer strangers?”

“I’d be fine with that.”

“Good.” He grins. That’s at least a start.

Brienne can’t help but smile at this as well, only for horror to split across her face when the wheel comes to a sudden halt under much metal shrieking, followed by the shrieking of all passengers.

“That did not sound normal,” she mutters.

“Don’t they tend to stop it once?” Jaime asks. He saw that a number of times.

“They do, but it sounded different,” Brienne comments.

“Expert in Ferris wheels?” Jaime chuckles.

“Ferris Wheel Enthusiast.”

“Ah.”

The wheel turns again, and this time abruptly enough to have both of them clutch at the metal railing with white knuckles.

“Definitely not normal, even for the Non-Ferris Wheel Enthusiast,” Brienne says with a tight grimace, before shouting, “Pod! Sansa! Are you alright?”

“We are fine!” they call back up.

“Myrcella, Tommen, Joffrey?” Jaime yells as well.

“We live,” Joffrey retorts.

“But you can’t live here!” Tyrion shouts. “I live here!”

“Just shut the fuck up!” Joffrey yells, nearly decking his uncle still snuggling in the bottom part of the cabin.

“You don’t get to curse in my house!”

“I will push you off the thing if you don’t shut it!”

“No one is pushing anyone off the Ferris wheel!” Jaime curses. “Is that understood?”

“Then make him shut up!” Joffrey demands.

“He doesn’t get to tell me to shut up in my house either!”

Neither Brienne nor Jaime are surprised when the announcement blares over the loudspeakers that there is a technical malfunction, followed by a litany of how everyone is supposed to stay both calm and seated while the staff is trying to fix the issue.

Jaime sighs, leaning his head back. “I go to a bloody fair bloody once! And that is the outcome! Cheap joke! Very cheap. And not in the least funny.”

And even now he can feel all control slipping from him – because Jaime doesn’t even want to think about what the children will report back to their mother, which will ensure that Cersei won’t let him even see the kids for the next couple of months. And while Jaime will admit that he could do without Joffrey most of the time, he reckons it couldn’t harm to spend a little more time with Myrcella and Tommen. They don’t seem to completely hate him.

_So much to that… _

“I just hope they fix this soon,” Brienne mutters, looking down.

“There is no reason to be afraid, is there?” Jaime furrows his eyebrows.

Brienne shakes her head. “Rationally no.”

“And irrationally?”

“I feel any urge to climb down to their cabin and make sure they are okay,” Brienne admits rather sheepishly.

“They are,” Jaime assures her. “You heard them.”

“Rationally, yes.”

“Irrationality is a bitch.”

“And I’d much appreciate it if _the bitch_ shut up.”

Though thankfully, Brienne seems to ease enough to copy Jaime’s movement at last and lean back. They can’t change the situation now anyway, which seems to be the headline of Jaime’s entire parenting extravaganza thus far.

“Well, on the upside, we got stuck in the best spot on the Ferris wheel, right?” Jaime comments. “I mean, the view is… quite beautiful.”

There is really no way of denying it. Up there, it’s oddly quiet and the music below becomes no more than a soft hum. The sky is painted in a dark blue and the stars are shining brighter than some of the lightbulbs beaming below. And Jaime must say, the prospect of being stuck up there is much more tempting than chasing after the children and feeling inadequate for failing at the task yet again.

“It is,” Brienne agrees, but then adds with a tight grimace, “but since we are on the highest point, we will be rescued last… if they don’t fix it and the firefighters have to get us down.”

Jaime scrunches his nose at that. “You think we will have to be rescued?”

“They already contacted firefighters, for what it seems,” Brienne says, gesturing down where staff is busy running around.

“Fuck.”

“That sums it up quite well,” she sighs.

“You know, we might just as well use the time to get to know one another,” Jaime then suggests. His smile only widens when Brienne looks at him with an oddly endearing expression of sheer terror. Why not use this rare opportunity, right? Before the next inevitable disaster is bound to hit? At this point, Jaime has written off this day as a chain of unlucky events, so at the very least, he should use the few lights that appear in that darkness smelling of burned pastry and cotton candy.

“I think I am… in the picture,” Brienne says curtly, folding her hands in her lap.

“You don’t know me.” Jaime shakes his head. No one does, really, because beside his family, Jaime doesn’t let anyone close, and even if he wanted to, he didn’t find a person just yet who wanted to get to know him beyond the surface level.

“No, I don’t. But I don’t believe either that this is the right occasion to have such conversation,” she insists.

“What better occasion would there be at this fair, hm? No one to listen in on us talking, is there?” Jaime argues, gesturing around.

Brienne sucks in a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment, but then she opens them again and tells him, “You know, you don’t have to keep up that act.”

Jaime frowns. “What act would that be?”

Because if this was an act, Jaime surely would have fared better than deflowering his clothes and nearly losing the children he was tasked to look after tonight.

“Being so kind, feigning interest,” Brienne explains, looking ahead stubbornly. “There is no need to keep up the act, really. I understand and it’s fine.”

Jaime furrows his eyebrows, not quite believing what he hears. “What has you assume that I _feign_ interest?”

Brienne lays both palms flat on her thighs, then, turning slightly towards him with a sigh on her lips. “Look, I bet this is quite a funny show for you, to see a woman like me making a clown of herself taking care of those two teenagers in her own odd way, which certainly explains what piqued your interest, but… I _am_ rather self-aware.”

“Self-aware about what?” Jaime asks, his confusion only ever intensifying. While he is fairly sure his own performance was rather piss-poor, he seemingly missed a major part in reading the woman with the ridiculously long legs and blue eyes if she believes he is _feigning interest_.

She gestures down herself with her right hand with a fake smile. “I have a mirror at home – and I know what kind of impression we tend to leave on people who don’t know our story.”

“So you think I am only ever staying around for shit and giggles?” Jaime huffs. “To mock you and your efforts?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I’ve been there before,” she sighs. “More than once.”

“Ah, so now we are getting closer to the truth,” he says.

“I would rather not.”

“I bet you wouldn’t,” he snorts. “But you certainly make a vital mistake in thinking here, which brings you to a very faulty conclusion.”

Brienne frowns. “How so?”

“There are no men like me,” Jaime declares with a smirk.

Brienne studies him for a long moment, her lips curling, before a rather annoyed expression makes its way down from her eyebrows all the way to her chin. “Aha.”

“I mean that!” he insists.

Because it is true. At least Jaime didn’t meet anyone quite like himself just yet, and he had to make the acquaintance of many people thanks to his father’s wish for ultimate power and supposedly world supremacy. 

“You do strike me as rather unique, I will have to give you that much,” she huffs.

“You really have a way of making it sound like something terrible,” he scoffs.

“I am not trying to,” she mutters.

“You piqued my interested because… you astonished me.”

“I beg your pardon?” This time, Brienne just stares at him, and all Jaime can think for a moment is just how beautiful her eyes are, shining even brighter than the stars in the night sky. However, he abandons the thoughts quickly, knowing that he has to explain himself better if he wants Brienne to see his true intentions for what they are.

“I am amazed at how you handle yourself – as a parent, even if you refuse the label for some reason. I fail miserably with my nephews and my niece even though I only have them for a night. You, on the other hand, know your stuff as… a mom. You are supportive without being over the top, you show interest, you care, but you leave them space to breathe… I mean… I guess I was intrigued by that because you have a handle on those logistics I don’t know how to even sink into. I can’t even take a map along or watch the kids for ten minutes without at least one of them getting lost or nearly taser-ed by security personnel,” Jaime admits, reckoning that the one approach with Brienne is to be…

_Well, honest, simple as that. _

“I think you are great with them, considering that you don’t have that much experience,” Brienne argues, which has Jaime gape at her. “What?”

She shrugs. “You gave advice to a boy you hardly knew. You know how to express your feelings to make them express their own. You are… honest with them. You showed understanding for their interests even if you can’t relate personally. That is… good parenting, at least to my mind. And I bet once you have children of your own, you will… do just fine.”

“Unless I lose them at a fair,” he grunts. Jaime would like to believe that, but this experience should teach him that he may be a health hazard to children of any kind.

“Well, for that you can call them out over loudspeaker,” Brienne points out.

“Still,” he insists.

If the evening with Brienne by his side proved anything, then that Jaime may be better off without kids, or rather, that kids may be better off without him. Because as much as he likes to entertain those thoughts of a maybe-future, of being a father, of being a dad, Jaime can’t even handle three teenagers at a fair.

“I mean that. Podrick normally struggles talking to strangers, but with you? He seemed to connect rather easily,” Brienne admits. “That means you have a way with them, even if you don’t see it yourself. And in my experience… _parents_… aren’t born, they have to work their asses off to become such. Every single day anew. So… you will get there, if you want.”

“… Thanks,” Jaime blurts out saying, only now growing aware of how much he craved hearing that, because you can be sure that he never got to hear that from his sister. If you asked Cersei Lannister, everyone except for her is to blame for her children’s sometimes bad behavior, or in Joffrey’s case, his _always_ bad behavior.

“I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries… with what I just said…,” Brienne adds quickly, chewing on her bottom lip. “I mean… I just implied you want to have kids. You have any reason not to want to have kids… and even if you do, it’s none of my business, I mean…”

Jaime sniggers, leaning his head back with eyes closed. “Is that the comeback for the IVF thing I pulled earlier on?”

“I wasn’t trying to…,” she argues, but he holds up his hands to interrupt her. “You know what? I want to make a suggestion.”

“Which is?” She blinks at him.

“A truce.”

Brienne furrows her eyebrows at him. “A truce?”

“Yes, we say we are even on those matters, simple as that. Agree to disagree. Yadda.”

Brienne chews on her bottom lip for a moment, looking down, but then smiles before replying, “I am fine with the _yadda_. And the truce by extension.”

“Good!” Jaime chimes, only to shout, “Oh, look at that!”

“What?”

Jaime nods down to the cabin below, where Sansa snuggled up against Podrick’s arm. The boy sits there stiffly, seemingly not believing his own luck, red as a tomato. Jaime gives him two thumbs up, only to have Brienne nudge him in the side.

“What? Mission accomplished,” he laughs, which only ever earns him a roll of her beautiful blue eyes.

“They look cute together, though,” Brienne adds, before sliding back in the fake leather seat, seemingly telling herself to finally ease and let go. Jaime copies her movement and then follows her gaze over to the stars peeking through the cloudy sky.

“I think I could become a Ferris Wheel Enthusiast myself,” Jaime sighs.

“How so?” she asks.

“The view is definitely worth it,” Jaime answers, flashing a wicked grin.

“On Tarth, you can see the Narrow Sea beyond. It’s beautiful,” she recounts, her voice soft.

Jaime sighs. He surely hoped she would get the other indication, but for now, he is fine with Brienne relaxing somewhat. One step at a time, right?

“Maybe I should take the kids there one day,” Jaime ponders, his mind already travelling there.

“You seriously want to go on a ferry with those three? Good luck with that,” she scoffs.

“Maybe after a bit more training. I enjoy a challenge,” Jaime sniggers.

“Do you?”

“I am very competitive, you must know.”

She snorts, amused. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Jaime opens his mouth in reply, but the air momentarily leaves his lungs when suddenly, the cabin swoops down. Out of instinct, he takes a hold of Brienne’s wrist and squeezes tight.

“Dear guests, the Ferris wheel is fixed and we are now continuing the way down to let you out before closing it down for further inspection. Please remain seated and calm.”

“Calm my ass,” Jaime hisses through gritted teeth, his heart still beating so fast and so loud he can hardly hear his own voice. For a moment, Jaime really thought this was the long way to the bottom.

“They could have given us a warning,” Brienne speaks, her voice tight. “Seven Hells.”

“They _should_ have.”

Only once their cabin makes it to the bottom does Jaime realize that he’s still holding on to Brienne. Sheepishly as he imagines it any teenage boy to do, Jaime lets go, running his hand over the back of his head with a tight grimace. Brienne looks away just as fast, looking around nervously. The moment is soon broken up as the kids come up to them, leaving Jaime with the little thought of how warm her touch was.

“Everyone still alright?” Jaime asks.

“That was fun!” Tommen calls out excitedly, which makes Jaime frown incredulously. “That was fun for you?”

Normally, the boy is scared of nearly anything, but being stuck on the Ferris wheel got him excited? Sometimes Jaime honestly doesn't understand the world anymore, and right now, he is nearly past the point of trying to make sense of it.

Tommen nods his head frantically.

“Well, all the better,” Jaime comments. “I’m definitely taking it.”

“And you two?” Brienne asks, turning her attention back to Sansa and Podrick.

“We are fine. Pod watched out for me the whole time,” Sansa says with a bright smile.

“Right,” Pod agrees, frowning.

“We should definitely repeat that soon,” Sansa adds.

“But… school starts soon,” the boy says, letting his head hang low, looking straight up miserable.

Sansa grimaces at him, puckering her lips. “So?”

“Then we won’t see each other that often anymore. If at all,” Podrick comments, letting his head hang even lower, if that is even physically possible. And that is when Jaime starts to understand why the boy was so pushy to move things along at the fair.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you yet, did I?” Sansa questions.

“Tell me what?” Podrick grimaces.

“I want to leave the boarding school and attend the public high school after the semester draws to a close,” the red-haired girl tells him.

“What? Why?” Pod asks, his mouth standing wide open.

She grins at him. “Oh, you know, I want to get to know some boys.”

“Oh.” Podrick lets his head hang low.

“One boy in particular,” she continues.

“Oh.” If possible, he lets his head hang even lower.

“Pod, I am talking about you,” Sansa sighs, nudging him in the side.

“Ohhh!” Pod gapes, his head shooting up impossibly high.

“And I really don’t like it there anymore. I talked to Brienne about it. She will help me settle in the apartment below yours once it’s time,” Sansa continues.

“Really?” Pod asks, looking at his foster mother wide-eyed.

She shrugs her broad shoulders. “I help wherever I can.”

“Why did no one tell me?” he asks. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Sansa explains.

“It certainly is,” Pod sighs, scratching the back of his head.

“Lemon cake?” the girl offers.

“No thanks,” Podrick says, swallowing thickly, his stomach seemingly still a bit upset. Sansa shrugs her shoulders at that before plucking another sweet into her mouth before slinging her arm around his.

_The wonders of teenage love – when all is easy and no one has to file taxes yet_, Jaime thinks to himself with a sigh. If only it was just as easy for a middle-aged guy who found something he didn’t know he was looking for until it stood before him in skinny jeans.

“Get out of my house!” a voice rings out, pulling Jaime out of his musings. He turns his head with a roll of his eyes, well aware that this is his duty take care of. “If you excused me, I think I have to gather your uncle little quick before Joffrey murders his uncle for real.”

Though Jaime doesn’t get far as the boy rushes past him, only to throw up his guts in the next-best trash can.

“What happened to him?” Jaime demands to know as Tyrion stagger his way over to him, having attached the towel slash blanket around his neck to make it look like world’s most pathetic cape.

“He was scared shitless, the little shit, and that in my house!” Tyrion lulls. “And that even though I am Lil’ Superman.”

“This is not your house,” Jaime sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And really, you are not at all helpful, for the record.”

“I don’t try to be,” the younger man scoffs, waving at him dismissively, though the gesture nearly has him tip over to the left. “Hence the _Lil’_ Superhero.”

“Then get out of the house, new people are moving in,” Jaime says, urging his brother away from the Ferris wheel as new people want to get on and the staff is glowering at them both.

“What? I paid rent! With plastic clown chips, which are scary as hell, by the way,” Tyrion argues. “This is my house now.”

“Yeah, and they paid more, so now, off you go,” Jaime retorts.

“The real estate market is shit!”

“It is. Now c’mon. We will have to find you some other lodgings for the night.”

“You are such a good brother and I love you.”

“This would mean much more to me if you were sober.”

“I even love you when I am sober.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

Jaime guides his brother down the metal construction to find the rest of the group busily chatting. Jaime is more than thankful to see Brienne tending to poor Joffrey who is done hurling his guts out, giving him some water to drink. He is also pleasantly surprised to see Myrcella busy in conversation with Podrick and Sansa. Normally, she only ever talks about her friends in Dorne, about Trystane, about Sunspear, the Water Gardens, and Dorne, Dorne, Dorne. Thus, she normally doesn’t make the effort to make friends elsewhere, so this is definitely a nice change.

“I think we are finally complete,” Jaime says, walking over to Brienne and Joffrey.

“I fear we need another moment,” she calls out, nodding at the poor boy who is even paler than usual.

“We have the time,” Jaime answers.

Oddly so, Jaime finds himself suddenly much more at ease with the overall situation than he did in the beginning. Because they are all together, that is what counts. They don’t have to hurry after attractions, this is no chase. This is just a night at a fair edging on disaster.

_So what? _

All are surprised when young Tommen walks up to his older brother with a kind of boldness no one who knows him would believe him to even inherit. Once he stands in front of Joffrey, who is still hugging the trashcan, holding on for dear life itself, Tommen holds out his plushy cat to his older brother. And perhaps to everyone’s even greater shock, Joffrey snatches the thing from Tommen’s hands and clutches it close to his chest with utter desperation.

“You are welcome,” Tommen says, patting Joffrey on the head before walking back to the rest of the children. And if Jaime is not mistaken, there was the faintest of “thanks” to be heard from his oldest nephew, though that may have been just an illusion.

“Do you think we have to drag the boy to the sickbay?” Jaime asks Brienne quietly.

“I don’t think so,” Brienne answers. “I suppose it’s really just the shock and a bit of vertigo. It should pass.”

“I still hate all of you,” Joffrey moans between ragged breaths.

“We are aware,” Jaime snorts, patting the boy on the back with a tight smile. “He doesn’t really mean it.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, he does.”

“I think there is a stand where they sell hot beverages. Maybe they have some sweetened tea. That may help calm his stomach,” Brienne suggests, thankfully not taking offense when she would certainly have any reason to.

“Might be for the best,” Jaime agrees. “Joffrey?”

“Just make the world stop spinning.”

“I fear the rotation of the earth is not within my powers, but some hot beverage may be,” Jaime huffs, straightening back up. He is pleased to see how the attention of the children instantly lands on him. Only Tyrion is busy with his makeshift cape instead of him.

_He is so going to pay for all this tomorrow. _

But for now, that shouldn’t matter. Because as Jaime lets his gaze wander about the small group, one thing becomes obvious to him – tonight was a shit show until now, but that doesn’t mean it has to end as such, too.

_So why not take a chance and roll with it? What’s the worst that can happen? _

Jaime abandons that thought rather quickly, though, because the images of the entire fair just going up in flames due to a malfunction is just too vivid and cannot be entirely ruled out after what happened throughout the night.

“Alright, I need someone to take the bunch to the food stands and see to it that Joffrey gets some tea,” Jaime then announces loudly. “And I have chosen Tommen to take on that duty. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes!” Tommen says, standing up straighter.

“Good. Make sure everyone stays together. Drink something, eat something… or don’t,” his uncle says, looking quickly at Joffrey, who only ever shakes his head as another wave of nausea goes through him.

“And what are you going to do?” Tommen asks.

“Brienne and I need to talk to police. They asked us to give a statement for their protocols,” Jaime answers with a smirk.

“Oh. Alright,” Tommen replies, nodding his head before speaking up as loudly as he can, “Everyone, follow me!”

Jaime and Brienne watch as the group follows the shortest of the bunch, who walks with a confidence Jaime didn’t know Tommen even had.

“You didn’t even talk to a policeman,” Brienne comments quietly.

“I know,” he laughs, watching them go.

“Then why did you lie to them?” she asks cautiously.

“Because I wanted to go on one more ride before I go, and I can’t go on there all alone,” Jaime answers.

“You… want to go on a ride, right now.”

“With you, yes.”

“You are making me scared.”

He sniggers. “_That_ scares you?”

“Very much so.”

“It’s not the _Tunnel of Horror_, I promise,” Jaime assures her.

He just follows the advice Brienne gave to Myrcella, simple as that.

“But you are not going to tell me which one?” she asks.

He laughs. “Where would be the fun in that?”

“You know, this is supposed to be fun _for the kids_.”

“Doesn’t mean the adults can’t enjoy themselves at least for a few minutes, though. Honestly? I think we earned it,” Jaime argues. “We survived how many close calls with death? This may have been even more dangerous than anything I did while in the Army.”

“I realized that being a soldier came much more natural to me than taking care of a teenage boy, sometimes a teenage boy and a teenage girl,” she agrees.

“See? So we definitely earned ourselves a moment of… chaotic peace.”

“And stating that I don’t enjoy rides at all that often won’t sway you?” She wrinkles her nose.

“I can be quite insistent.”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“So… can I convince you not to make me ride alone like even more of a loser?” Jaime asks, clutching at his chest. “Show some heart with a guy who’s trying really hard not to completely suck as an uncle?”

“… Alright,” Brienne says at last, if a little uncertainly – though that is certainly enough for Jaime. He knows his grin edges on being utterly ridiculous, but he is willing to jinx it now. No one died, the kids are seemingly under control, for now anyway. Against all odds, this evening didn’t turn to complete shit. _No one died, I repeat, no one died._

So why not give luck a shot?

The worst that can happen is what? Another snow cone in his lap? Okay, there is still the scenario of the whole thing blowing up, but what are the chances?

_What **are** the chances? _

The two continue walking silently next to each other. While his pant leg still feels damp and sticky, Jaime finds his step far easier, with much more bounce. He is honestly enjoying himself at this fair, against those very long, very odd odds.

At last, the destination comes in sight. Jaime peeks over to Brienne, who visibly pales at the sight presenting itself before her. While he reckoned she’d be freaked out, Jaime starts to wonder if he went too far, because her facial expression edges on sheer horror.

“You aren’t serious,” she gapes.

“C’mon, I have one more chip to use,” he argues, nudging her in the side. “And I haven’t been on such a thing since… ages ago.”

“I don’t get out of this, do I?” Brienne asks with a tight grimace.

“You could feign excitement, you know?” he huffs.

“I am not trying to,” she answers, swallowing thickly.

“Well, I insist.”

“… Fine. There seems no way of helping it,” she sighs. Though Jaime will say that the utter defeat in her voice does not necessarily inspire confidence.

“I’m afraid not, no. But don’t worry, nothing is going to bite you in there, I’ll make sure of it.” He winks at her.

Brienne furrows her eyebrows at him, her expression a mystery to him at this point. “… Most kind of you.”

And so, the two get into the _Love Tunnel_. Is it ridiculous? Jaime is fairly sure that it is. But he doesn’t care. He made enough of a fool of himself to simply run with it now. At the very least, you can’t get stuck in the _Love Tunnel_ like you can on a Ferris wheel. You can always take a plunge in the water and swim to the exit.

_Like poor Melara… _

“You know, the last time I was in such a thing, my sister attacked the girl I was in a boat with,” Jaime comments with a grin as he places his left hand on her back to push her forward to the thankfully not too long line.

“What? Why?” Brienne asks through pursed lips.

He shrugs. “She didn’t like to share me.”

“Your sister… sounds odd,” Brienne can’t help but note. “No offense.”

“She is even odder in person. You should meet her,” he laughs.

“I believe I would rather not.”

“Yeah, maybe not. I mean, you already had to deal with the disaster duo with my brother and I… and the terrible trio, of course. We would make for a great villain team in some comic book adaptation, I believe.”

Brienne falls silent beside him as they take step after step towards the pink monstrosity with cupids twirling on metal sticks stuck up their metal diapers.

“Is everything alright?” he asks softly. Maybe he was too bold after all, and his luck decided to run out at last.

“Splendid.”

“Wow, you are terrible at lying,” Jaime snorts.

“I suppose that’s not the worst trait one can have.”

“It certainly isn’t,” he agrees. “Against all odds, I enjoy the company of honest people much more than that of those who can lie straight to your face. Sadly, I tend to deal with the latter far too often on the job… and in life generally.”

“Sadly, most businesses run best because of people who can tell a lie very confident… or the world entirely, perhaps. Liars seem to be ahead of the game most of their time, at least in my experience,” Brienne ponders, her lips curling into a tight grimace, giving Jaime any indication that there is a layer to the current conversation Brienne won’t share with him.

And while Jaime knows that he has no business asking for more information, as they only know each other for a couple of hours by now, there is a strange pull on his chest that makes him want to sit her down and talk it all out.

_Perhaps she is rubbing off on me already._

Jaime discards that thought as quickly as he can, though, because thinking of her and rubbing does things to regions of his body that have no business awakening right now. Because Jaime surely has no intention to have a kid point at him, asking why that man hid one of those chocolate-dipped bananas in his pants.

“Next please!”

Jaime whips his head around to see a meaty fellow with bald head gesturing at him to finally get a move, which he does promptly, not wanting to keep the good man waiting. Brienne falls in line beside him as Jaime hands out the colorful plastic chip to the bald guy who only ever nods his head before gesturing at another guy to lead them to the small swan-shaped boats.

The swans look more like ducks to Jaime’s mind. The fake red leather looks like rats at their way through it, and the poor swan is missing an eye. And the pink light shining down from above while The Seasons of My Love blares over loudspeakers that make it sound like nails are occasionally being scratched over a chalkboard just for fun add absolutely nothing to a “romantic” atmosphere.

_Maybe I should have taken her to the shooting range instead. _

Brienne certainly would have enjoyed herself more than she seemingly does as she climbs into the swan-boat, looking even more frightened than she was on the Ferris wheel. And this time, she doesn’t have the parent’s worry with her, knowing that the kids are alright. Jaime swallows as he gets in beside her, hoping that this won’t be the Melara Situation 2.0, though thankfully, he is pretty sure Cersei won’t materialize out of nowhere just to push Brienne out of the boat.

_She is too busy screwing her pirate-wannabe loverboy, after all._

At last, the boats set into motion. A cranky door opens and they are led into what is perhaps the cheapest fairyland version Jaime has ever seen in his entire life. The angels above look like they should have gone in the Tunnel of Horror instead. And the water smells like at least ten people relieved themselves in there in the last thirty minutes.

Jaime’s eyes drift back over to Brienne, wanting to distract himself from the terrible choice he’s made with his last ride, but sadly, her facial expression only confirms what the cross-eyed angels with wicked grimaces already told him – Brienne is not at all feeling comfortable in the swan boat.

“This is shittier than I imagined it too look like, sorry about that,” Jaime comments, hoping to dissolve some of the tension lying about as thick in the air as the smell of plastic and the rotten burger someone was so kind to throw against the hideout wall painting depicting a loving couple holding hands while cupids fire heart-shaped arrows up their asses.

“It’s fine,” Brienne says through pursed lips.

“You don’t sound like it, though,” Jaime argues, getting more and more of the feeling that this is a battle lost already.

“I am… more of the Ferris Wheel Enthusiast, I believe I told you.”

“You did,” Jaime agrees. “I just thought it’d be fun and didn't involve the threat of having to be rescued by the firefighters.”

“Strategically wise.”

“And you are sure you are alright?” he asks again.

“Perfect.”

“You _are_ a terrible liar.”

“Let’s just say I didn’t have the best experiences with _Love Tunnels_ myself,” Brienne says at last, keeping her eyes very much fixed on the obese cupid dangling by just a single thread above their heads.

“I hope my sister had no part in that.”

“She certainly did not.”

“So… what was it? Did a boy get too bold with you and you had to show him his boundaries?” Jaime teases. Somehow, he finds that thought both endearing and thrilling, because it leaves him wondering what she would do if he were a little bolder right now – because he’d really like to be bold.

“Bold is one way of describing it,” Brienne answers, chewing on her bottom lip. “Another way is… a bunch of boys acting like they wanted to be bold when all they really wanted was to win a wager for free tickets for the fair for the rest of the evening.”

Jaime furrows his eyebrows. “A wager?”

“Yes, a wager,” she sighs as a portal opens in front of them with a shrieking sound. Inside the next room, everything is dark, safe for the black pain showing cute, if oftentimes misspelled messages such as “I huv you,” “U – Me = Forever,” or “You are the love of my wife” love messages in neon colors.

“What was the wager about, if you don’t mind my asking?” Jaime pushes, hoping that the darkness will make it easier on her as Brienne seems to be idly focused on not looking at him while speaking. And that even though he would much rather have her look at him again so he can see those beautiful blue eyes another time.

“To get a kiss out of the most prudish, ugliest girl in the class,” Brienne says at last. Jaime doesn’t have to see her face to know the pain in her expression.

“Ouch.” He winces.

“Once I realized what was going on… which took me far too long because I definitely should have known that there was no way so many boys would suddenly be interested in me and want to spend time with me, in the _Love Tunnel_ no less… I pushed the boy just about to force his lips on mine right out of the boat.”

“As you should have,” Jaime huffs. While it saddens him to hear that such a thing happened to Brienne, he can’t help but find it curious how his last experience with _Love Tunnels_ and hers share one element, that someone gets pushed into the water.

“After that, as you will imagine, I was the joke at every party – and fair, for that same matter.”

“While I once was one myself, I think we should just freeze most teenage boys and only ever warm them back up once they are adults and can behave themselves somewhat,” Jaime comments.

“Most men are not much better, in my experience…,” she argues, “and as for teenagers, I suppose that’s just how they are around that age.”

“Well, your Podrick certainly isn’t.”

Brienne smiles faintly at that. “No, he’s not. I’ve seen to that. Though Podrick was a sweet boy even before I took him in.”

“So perhaps not all hope is lost for our male youth.”

“Perhaps not.”

Jaime licks his lips. ““Do you think I am like those boys?”

“You are hardly a boy anymore, are you?”

He chuckles. “I am a child at heart.”

“I don’t think I know you enough to say that,” Brienne answers.

“If you were to guess, though?”

“… I don’t think you are like them. Or else, believe me, I would have taken a U-turn to walk back to the kids instead of getting on this hellish ride,” Brienne huffs.

Jaime snorts, amused. “I guessed as much.”

“I have a question,” she suddenly says.

“Shoot,” Jaime answers, a frown forming on his lips. Her tone tells him that something is not good – and that is _not good_.

“Is the boat still moving?”

Jaime looks down with a grimace. “No, I think it’s not.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Brienne leans her head back with a grunt.

“How high are the chances that we get on two rides altogether and both break down? Seriously!” Jaime laments. And here goes any effort of his to be bold – him being bold is seemingly bound to head right to disaster.

“Well, if they don’t get a move soon, be sure I will crawl my way out of here,” Brienne scoffs, hugging her chest.

“I will be right behind you,” Jaime huffs. “Those cupids will haunt me in my dreams.”

“I think I actually saw a rat.”

“Another thing to haunt me in my dreams!”

She sighs. “I will say, though… considering the last time I was in a _Love Tunnel_, I believe this ride is still better than my last.”

“Now I feel honored. And truthfully, I feel the same,” Jaime answers truthfully. Because really, he’d take being stuck with Brienne on such a ride, with or without rat, over that fun ride with Cersei and Melara any time.

“Good that we agree on that,” Brienne snorts.

“We have a truce after all.”

“_Yadda_.”

“Brienne?” Jaime licks his lips.

_To Hells with it all. _

She looks at him. “Hm?”

“Can you promise me something?”

“That depends on what you are asking,” she points out to him.

“That you don’t push me out of the swan so that I end up in the piss-water,” Jaime continues, which makes her frown at him incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

Jaime answers by cupping her chin and bringing his lips to hers, thankfully finding them upon first try, considering the greater challenge of the lousy lighting.

He wants to be bold in the right way, for once.

And he wants her to know that he is neither feigning interest nor like any other guy she got to know – _if she didn’t get the message just yet after the chaos I pusher her into. _

At first, Jaime fears he will find himself in the piss-water any second now, but then he can feel her shift to face more towards him, kissing him back in full earnest. Her long fingers find his collar even in the dark, pulling him closer. For a moment, he loses all hearing, and even the creepy cupid faces painted on the ceiling can do nothing to distract him.

And Jaime must say, the stupid boys really missed out because that woman is an excellent kisser.

For that one perfectly imperfect moment, everything that went terribly wrong this evening just disappears, blurs away until he can only see heart-shaped neon signs and the faintest outline of her face in the dark. Jaime can’t remember the last time he wanted to kiss a girl that bad, in fact, he believes he never wanted to kiss a woman that badly until he found his lips almost burning against hers. And now, Jaime grows more and more convinced that he wants to kiss those lips many, many more times.

_Or ever stop kissing them again… _

However, the bliss of the moment is lost when the swan sets back into motion abruptly, forcing their mouths apart again with a gasp. The two adults are pushed back against the faux leather seats with a sharp turn. Both groan as their shoulders hit the hard surface, surely bound to leave matching bruises.

_How romantic… _

The door opens and light seeps through the cracks. When Jaime sees Brienne next to him, cheeks flushed, blinking at him wide-eyed, he doesn’t know what to expect. However, that is when she just bursts out laughing, covering her face with both her hands, and Jaime just joins in, leaning back as giggles run through his body, leaving him lightheaded.

“I hope I made my point clear?” he asks breathlessly as the chuckles die down again.

“Very much so,” Brienne answers, only to bring her fingers to her face again, but this time, Jaime gently lowers her hand back down, and even without words, she seems to understand that he doesn't want her to hide that smile from him.

Feeling all the bolder now, Jaime doesn’t let go of her hand this time, but instead just lets their entangled fingers rest on the fake leather seat, hoping in all sincerity that the sticky feeling from the seat comes from a dried drink and not some other kind of liquid.

Brienne looks at their entwined fingers for a moment before looking back up at him again, still caught off-guard, seemingly still trying to figure out how that can be true, and it is this sheepishness, this shyness on this tall, strong woman that makes Jaime want to kiss her again and again and again.

But before he can get to it, the last door opens with a deafening shriek and they are out on the fairground again, where children are screaming and running around. The meaty guy walks up to them as the swan comes to a halt.

“Sorry about the delay. The power went out for some reason!”

“You may want to check for some _unwanted guests_,” Brienne whispers to him. “They enjoy cables and such.”

“Fuck!”

“I believe you may want to check that out immediately,” Jaime says, and the meaty guy rushes off at a speed Jaime didn’t believe the man was capable of, but then again, too many things happened tonight that he deemed entirely impossible, so why would he start questioning that now, right?

“So, that was the last ride of the evening. No more clown chips, I’m afraid,” Jaime says.

“Apparently,” Brienne says, brushing her left hand over her hair to smooth some loose strands behind her ear. Jaime takes his private pleasure in the knowledge that he was the one who managed to make her otherwise so tidied up look a little more disheveled. It suits her very well in his opinion.

“I hope you enjoyed it a tiny bit.”

“More than I expected, actually,” Brienne admits as they start walking.

“Ah, before I forget…,” Jaime says, reaching into his pocket. “And before the others get all nosy about it…”

He takes out his business card, which he hands over to Brienne. “It has my private number on the bottom.”

Brienne looks at it wide-eyed, seemingly studying every detail of the piece of paper to memorize it at once, which Jaime finds all the more endearing, and making him want to kiss her yet again, but she would certainly not approve of having him lick her tonsils while there is an audience.

_Maybe some time in the future, though, who knows… after tonight, I believe anything can happen._

Perhaps even the impossible can happen and Jaime can have the life he thought he would never have. Though only time will reveal, he supposes.

“Something wrong?” he asks when Brienne keeps fixing her gaze on that card as though it had some secret code on it she yet has to decipher.

“No, it’s just… I don’t tend to get business cards for anything other than business,” Brienne says with a tight smile.

“Well, I am not like most others,” Jaime argues. “As I hope you now know.”

“You are certainly… one of a kind.” She smiles at him shyly before stuffing the card into her pant pocket. And Jaime takes his private pleasure in leaving his eyes fixed on those mile-long legs for a moment longer than would be necessary.

“You know that this means you’ll have to call me back, right?” he teases as they start walking again.

“… Alright,” she stammers, bowing her head. Jaime chuckles wickedly as the food stands come into sight at last.

Thankfully, everyone is in one place and they won’t have to call them out over the loudspeakers – because Jaime had enough of that for one evening. Tyrion is apparently dozing next to Joffrey, who leaned his head on his uncle’s shoulder, still clutching the plush kitten to his chest. Sansa and Podrick are busy in conversation with Myrcella, looking to anyone who doesn’t know them like yearlong friends. And Tommen is watching everyone like a hawk, making sure no one gets left behind.

_Perhaps not all hope is lost – for them… and for me as well. _

“Oh, there you are!” Cersei’s youngest son calls out when he catches sight of Jaime and Brienne approaching. Once they reached them, Jaime pats Tommen on the shoulder, saying, “Thanks for keeping watch over the others, Tommen.”

“At your service.” The boy makes a small mock salute. “Joffrey had some tea and he didn’t throw up anymore. But I got some bags from the guy selling fries over there, for in the car.”

“Very considerate of you, Tommen.”

“And good thinking,” Brienne adds, offering a small smile.

“So what did the officers say?” Tommen asks.

“What officers?” Jaime frowns, but Brienne nudges him in the side – a little harder than she would have to, nearly knocking the air out of him.

“The police officers didn’t say much. They only wanted our statement for their report. It has to do with insurance and such,” Brienne adds quickly.

“Oh, okay.” With that, Tommen walks back to Myrcella and the rest. Jaime is happy to see how the older sister pulls him into a loose embrace, making him part of the conversation for once, when she normally leaves him aside to talk about Dorne and Trystane all the time.

“You know, that was a pretty smooth lie for a person who is no good liar,” Jaime comments quietly, flashing her a smirk.

“Whereas you did a quite terrible job following up on your own lie.”

“What can I say? I am an honest guy in a dishonest world,” he sighs, smirking.

“Ah.”

“And my intentions are always true,” he continues, winking at her, before announcing loudly, “Alright, people. Who’s ready to go home?”

Everyone safe for the sleeping figures to their right raises their hand. After that whole trouble with the Ferris wheel, Jaime reckons they are all ready to go to bed rather sooner than later. And while there is a part of him longing to take Brienne just about anywhere else just to spend more time with her, he knows that tonight is not the night. Despite the fact that the night was definitely more of the night than he ever imagined it to be when he first walked through the gigantic clown’s mouth.

“Majority wins! We are heading home. C’mon!” Jaime walks over to Tyrion and Joffrey. He kicks his brother against the foot to rouse him before bending down to give the little teenage devil a piggy-back ride to the car. Like this, the boy almost seems peaceful.

_But really just almost. _

Because Jaime knows what awaits them all by the time he comes back around – and it won’t either be pretty or peaceful, but Jaime finds he doesn’t care. For that, the feeling of Brienne’s lips on his is still far too prominent on his mind.

And so, the group makes back to the parking lot, leaving colorful lights, crying and screaming children, the smell of cotton candy, and the big clown’s mouth behind them, thankfully not having claimed any victims, safe for Joffrey and his upset stomach.

“I believe this is where we have to part,” Brienne says, coming to a halt. “We are headed to parking area C.”

“Then this is goodbye,” Jaime sighs, readjusting his grip on Joffrey’s sleeping form.

“It appears so,” Brienne exhales, and if Jaime is not mistaken, there is a tone of disappointment in her voice, which is all the more encouraging for him.

“I have your phone numbers and will call you back as soon as I have my phone charged again,” Jaime can hear Myrcella tell Podrick and Sansa. “I have so many pictures I must show you!”

“Looking forward to it,” Sansa says, beaming at her. “I always wanted to see Dorne!”

“You should come there sometime. I can show you the best places!”

“Podrick, what do you think?” Sansa asks, nudging the raven boy in the side.

“Going on holidays together? Oh my,” the teenager says, smiling as dumbly as Jaime imagines himself to have ogled at Brienne after the kiss in the _Love Tunnel_.

_Speaking of_, Jaime turns his attention back to the blonde woman standing beside him, watching Podrick and Sansa with the kind of motherly fondness he knows she has though she herself still struggles to see it at times. He brushes his hand against her elbow, whispering, “Call me back, my fair lady.”

She snorts once, but then looks at him, confirming that he is absolutely serious. Because Jaime is. As ridiculous as this whole situation is, what happened in that shabby _Love Tunnel_ was perhaps the truest it’s ever gotten for him, and Jaime wants more, more, more. That is the kind of ride he imagines he can stay on for the rest of his days, even if there are many loops and malfunctions along the way.

“Alright,” Brienne mutters, fighting a blush, though evidently losing that battle, which Jaime considers his very own victory.

Jaime grins before walking away with his lot whereas Brienne takes her teenagers over to her car, and as he watches them go, he can’t help but note that from a distance, they all look like small families, like any other, even if they are not like everyone else by any means. Though Jaime finds that this is alright somehow. He is at peace with the imperfection – because it was this chaos that created some clarity in his mind, making him realize that what he wants for life is perhaps not as far out of his reach as he first imagined it to be.

“What’s going on with your face?” Tyrion asks, pulling Jaime out of his musings, back to his brother dragging his feet – and his cape – over the gravel to the car.

“What’s going on with yours?” the older brother retorts.

“You have the goofiest smile on I’ve ever seen. In my entire life. Period.”

“I am… just happy,” Jaime answers simply.

Because… he is. And Jaime can’t recall the last time he could say that out loud and mean it. Normally, he is so preoccupied thinking about the job, about all that was and all that wasn’t, that he sometimes tends to forget what could be.

But tonight showed him what could be, what he could still become, and Jaime must say, he can’t wait for it, only ever hoping that he won’t continue to get stuck the way he did on that fair far too often.

Tyrion makes a face. “Yuck.”

“I am surprised myself.”

“Count me surprised as well,” Tyrion huffs. “Ugh. I feel miserable.”

“And that was no part of your grand plan? I thought you ran all the numbers?” Jaime teases. “Brother dear?”

“A bulldozer ran them over inside my head,” the younger man pouts.

“Because you drank the fair empty.”

“I actually missed the apple wine booth. They served them in hollowed-out apples. Hollowed-out apples, Jaime!”

“Unbelievable.” He rolls his eyes.

“I know,” Tyrion exhales, letting his shoulders hang low, nearly losing his cape in the process. “It could have been magical!”

“And you enjoyed yourself?” Jaime asks Myrcella and Tommen. “Against all odds?”

“Totally!” his niece says.

“I want to go again!” Tommen croons.

“Maybe we can talk to your mother about that once we get home,” Jaime offers, still rather shocked that the children didn’t mark this under “worst days of our lives thanks to our Uncle Jaime.”

“Awesome!” both cry out in unison.

“But Uncle Jaime?” Tommen adds.

“Yes?”

“Can we go with _you_ again?” the boy questions.

He blinks. “Sure, why?”

“It was much more fun with you than with Mother,” the boy explains, and Jaime would be lying if he said that this doesn’t spread a fuzzy, warm feeling in his entire body – because it does.

_Maybe I am not a complete failure in all this after all, even though I certainly need a lot of training, still. _

“Or her stupid boyfriend,” Myrcella huffs. “He smells of seaweed and brandy.”

“While I tend to agree, I hope you know you are not supposed to say that to her… or him,” Jaime says in a mild tone.

“But I can think it?” his niece asks.

Jaime nods his head. “Certainly.”

“Cool… so you _will_ talk to her?”

“I believe it can be arranged that we go again,” he assures her. “I will see to it.”

Jaime finds his smile broadening to the point of ridiculousness. Really, not all hope seems lost just yet, not for him at least.

At last, they reach the car. Jaime manages to open the door in the back without dropping the devilish kid before easing Joffrey into the backseat. While buckling him up proves to be more of a challenge, Jaime is thankful when Myrcella helps him by closing the seatbelt.

“Let’s just hope he sleeps through the ride home,” Jaime sighs as he slams the door shut and gets behind the steering wheel himself.

“He looks almost peaceful like that,” Tyrion notes, wrinkling his nose as he turns around on the seat to look at his nephew. “Almost like he doesn’t want to murder us all. Though I bet he is not counting sheep but knives right now. You little devil, you.”

Once everyone is buckled up and the doors are closed, Jaime starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot. Through the rear-side mirror, he observes the three kids. Joffrey is snoring peacefully with the plush kitten, whereas Myrcella is showing Tommen something on her phone, which is finally charging again and thus came back to life.

“Uncle Jaime?” Tommen asks from behind. Jaime looks back in the mirror. He can see the outlines of his confused face as Myrcella’s phone illuminates them both in a fine blue light.

“Yes?”

“I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why is your tongue purple?


	2. Epilog

Jaime sighs, pushing the large plastic bags between his legs from left to right as he tries to find a more comfortable sitting position on the bench he found thankfully unoccupied, which, considering the circumstances, is like winning the gigantic teddy at the _Tombola_. Because his muscles were short before giving out on him.

_I am growing old already. Little time from now, I will be a gray lion, Seven Hells._

Above his head, rides whoosh past him and children are screaming excitedly – though mostly terrified in anticipation of the next loop. Jaime simply enjoys the cold air being blown his way, because he definitely should have listened _to reason_ and gone for the light jacket instead of the leather jacket.

_But I couldn’t lose that fight, now could I? _

“Is that seat taken?”

Jaime smirks as he looks up. “It is, actually, but I may be convinced to move aside.”

“How so?”

“For the small deed of a kiss, the seat shall be all yours, my fair lady.”

When they got ready – and he insisted on the leather jacket in their ongoing battle over who is right and who is wrong – Jaime couldn’t help but muse that Brienne chose a very similar attire to the one he first saw her in.

_And first kissed her in, too. _

She really has no clue what she’s doing to him, in those skinny jeans, though Jaime certainly has no issue showing her again when he rids her of them on the next best occasion once it arises.

“Get a move,” Brienne huffs with a smile, tapping his knee with the flat of her palm before sitting down next to him, stretching out her long legs, which Jaime takes any pleasure to look at all day long – because he can.

Because he was foolishly bold once, at a fair, and that did not just bring chaos but also a future now whooshing past his head with every day passing.

“Do I have to remind you that a Lannister always pays his debts… or _her_ debts?” he argues, tapping his index finger against the base of the ring finger of her left hand where a golden ring with a blue gemstone right in the middle now beams almost as brightly as her eyes.

_But really just almost. _

Brienne rolls just those beautiful eyes at him before pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. Jaime taps the side of his face with a ridiculous smile. “My fair lady, I feel so faint from your affection.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” she snorts, rolling her muscular shoulders.

“I can also call you wench again, if you preferred,” he teases.

She narrows her eyes. “… Then I rather take the fair lady.”

“As my fair lady wishes,” he chimes.

He was surprised at how quickly things moved forward, going from the fair that brought a lot of chaos into Jaime’s life – but also the one rock amidst the wild sea to keep him afloat. Brienne called him that same weekend, even though he had a hard time hearing her at first because Brienne barely got out a sound on the other end of the line.

Jaime himself had spent the weekend, fearing she wouldn’t call back and wrecking his brain about how he should have asked for her number, too. However, then the phone rang and all worry was forgotten.

It was Brienne who suggested that maybe they should visit a medieval themed fair at Rosby, ending on a breathless “butonlyifyouhavethetimeIwouldunderstandifyoudidn’tbutIjustthoughtitwasagoodidea,” which only ever cemented Jaime’s plan of erasing any doubt from her mind.

He dutifully does that since the day they kissed again on the medieval fair, right next to the stands with the mead after he started to hum _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ to piss her off, assuring her with every kiss, with every touch, that he wanted her. Because he does, more than his wedding vows could ever have expressed. Needless to mention that Jaime mumbled his way through that speech about as much as Brienne rambled her way through her first invitation.

As Tyrion noted during his best man’s speech: “You two are a match meant to be, because I honestly don’t know who else would put up with you if you two don’t put up with each other.”

“You know, I already feared I lost you,” Jaime comments, his mind still vaguely dancing over the memory of Brienne in that simple white dress, smiling shyly as ever, though thankfully, without hiding it from him – he’s seen to that.

“How so?” Brienne asks, wrinkling her nose.

“You were gone for thirty minutes,” Jaime answers. “Imagine how much I missed you – and what could have happened to me without you looking after me all the time!”

“The line in front of the restrooms is always long,” Brienne sighs. “People drink way too much lemonade and the girls always clog up the stalls to gossip.”

“Which is why I always take my leak behind the _Tombola_ stand,” Jaime concludes, nodding his head as he folds his arms in front of his chest.

“Please tell me you didn’t.” Brienne makes a face, wrinkling her nose.

He huffs, amused. “Even if I did, no one could prove it.”

“You are incorrigible,” she sighs.

“You knew that before you married me.”

“And sometimes I still ask myself why I did, knowing that,” Brienne snorts with a smirk.

And truthfully, Jaime asked himself that very question for a long time as they started dating. Because to his mind, Brienne was so honest and honorable – which surely means something in their time and age – that Jaime didn’t know how he fitted in. However, as much as he devoted himself to showing her how much he wanted her, Brienne seemingly took on the challenge to show him how much she believed in him to be the man he wanted to become, and loving him sometimes despite and sometimes because of the way he is.

“Because you love me,” Jaime answers.

That is the most straightforward answer in it all – how they got together? How they got married? The simple solution, for which Jaime doesn’t need an algorithm, a program, or a careful plot involving the _Tunnel of Horror_, is just this – he loves her and she loves him. And while life continues to be pure chaos around them most of the time, that is the simple yet beautiful thing that grew out of a chaotic evening at a fair years ago.

Loving Brienne and having her love him proved to be solution to 90% of all his problems, and the rest? They tackle as a team. “_Tackle” being the operative word here_, because Brienne certainly has a tendency to handle situations the way it would make any general proud.

“Against better judgment,” Brienne huffs.

“And because I am an outstanding lover,” he adds with a wicked grin, fully expecting her to push him against the shoulders, shouting shrilly, “Jaime!”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“There are children around!” she hisses in a lower voice.

“And it is from such activity that they are all made. Well, safe for those that are the result of an IVF, but even those parents, most likely, shake it up at some point in their married life,” Jaime argues, gesturing around.

“This is the last time, I am warning you.”

He smiles at her brightly. “You can always shut me up with a kiss, my love.”

“Or with a well-aimed punch to the arm. You always cry like a girl when I do it.”

“Because you are strong enough to break an arm, woman,” he huffs, though really, he loves that, too. It took Brienne some time to accept that he could take it. Previous experiences taught her to hold back, but with him, she doesn’t have to. They go to the gym together and give each other hell in the boxing ring – and after that, more often than not, they get to the Seven Heavens when they put their wedding rings back on and head to the bedroom to celebrate their most strange union.

“You knew that before you married me,” Brienne replies, echoing his words, which only ever has Jaime’s smile broaden. “True. What can I say? Some boys like a challenge… Speaking of, we could make a challenge right now.”

“No,” she answers in a flat voice. Brienne always knows when he is up for trouble, and most of the time, she will deny him, but Jaime also found out that his wife can be adventurous if she wants to be – or if he pushes her in the right direction.

“You didn't even hear me out!”

“I well remember your last _challenge_,” Brienne insists, hugging her chest.

“It is one of my fondest memories,” Jaime argues. “And I will treasure it for the rest of my life. I mean, who gets lucky enough to do such a thing at a medieval fair, at that angle, and that right where they…”

“Shush now!” Brienne cuts him off. Jaime chuckles to himself. “That was the fifth best moment in my life.”

Brienne sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm her mind, well aware of her husband’s antics and that fighting him on those matters tends to make Jaime all the more competitive about it. “And what are the top four, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Jaime scoots over and brushes his fingers over the back of her hand, enjoying the small shudder running through her at the intimacy of that touch. He leans closer, still, so that he can say in a lowered voice, “The day I met you and kissed you for the first time. The day you and I had the first coupling. The day you married me. And…”

“Daddy!”

The two whip their heads around as young Joanne rushes up to them and climbs into her father’s lap. Jaime pulls her close to him with a grunt.

“And of course your birthday was the best day of my life,” he adds, pressing a quick kiss to the top of the blonde girl’s head.

“My fifth birthday is soon!” Joanne lets him know, clapping her small hands together.

“Yes, it is, sweetheart,” Jaime agrees. Sometimes he finds it hard to believe, but yes, she is about to be five years old already. Yes, he is a father for almost five years now. And while Jaime nearly lost her in a shopping mall once – _technically twice, but she showed up after five minutes, so it doesn’t really count_ – Jaime honestly starts to believe that he is not the worst parent the world has ever seen.

Had someone asked him before he went to the fair that changed his life, however, Jaime certainly would have had a different view on those matters, but thankfully, Brienne remained right – which she takes any pleasure in to point out to him: Growing closer with his nephews and his niece – and Podrick and Sansa – proved to be good training for Jaime to gain some confidence in a field he never thought he would set foot on. And while Jaime knows he is far from being a perfect father, their little girl continues to grow up, much faster than he would want her at times.

“And I get a wooden sword, yes?” Joanne asks, puckering her lips.

“Maybe,” Jaime answers. “But we have to ask mommy first.”

“Wheeeee!” Joanne throws her small arms up in the air, smiling brightly at her parents. Jaime is glad she inherited her mother’s beautiful eyes, because he would hope that they will carry on for many more generations to come, so that this light is never lost.

“Sorry, guys! She is wicked fast!” Podrick calls out as he approaches, both hands on either side of his hips, wheezing. He now sports the first signs of a beard and looks not at all that much like Jaime remembers him from the day they first met. Pod looks much more adult now, not just for matters of his age, but the way he carries himself. There is confidence now where there was nothing but nervousness before. Though the goofy expression won’t ever leave him, Jaime reckons.

And he finds that this is not at all a bad thing.

“No worries. We know she is a weasel,” Jaime assures him, readjusting his grip on the little whirlwind currently sorting through the bags by his feet.

“I am no weasel, daddy, I am a lion!” the girl insists, bringing her head back up to show him a very pouty face.

“The cutest and most deadly lion cub the world’s ever seen,” Jaime sniggers, ruffling through her golden curls. “But you still move as fast as a weasel, sweetheart.”

The girl puckers her lips, but then shrugs her shoulders, seemingly accepting the title, before going back through the bags a second time. What she is looking for? Jaime doesn’t know, but he also knows that Joanne inherited both her parents’ stubbornness, which can only mean one thing – _the girl won’t give up, ever._

“Have you seen the others by any chance?” Pod asks, looking around.

“Sansa took Trystane and Myrcella to the _Balloon and Dart Game_ the last I saw them,” Brienne answers. “They should be back here shortly. It’s about time.”

“I wanted to catch up with them for the _High Striker_ game, but Joanne insisted on another round in the _Tunnel of Horror_,” Pod tells her – Joanne has him very much under her spell and Pod dutifully fulfills most of her wishes. Though Jaime can’t blame him – he has a hard time saying no to that little weasel himself.

“They monsters are so funny!” Joanne says, bringing her head back up, having fished out the object of interest – a bag full of colorful popcorn she wanted to have oh so desperately because she is quite sure that this is how rainbows should taste like.

“She takes after her father more than she maybe should,” Brienne snorts. “He quite likes those himself for a good chuckle.”

“What? I am adorable,” Jaime huffs.

“You have your moments,” Brienne sighs. “Oh, look, there they are!”

Jaime still can’t quite believe how those four grew to be close friends over the course of the years. He never would have guessed that Myrcella would depart from Dorne in a lifetime, but she quit Sunspear after the semester following the fair that brought Jaime and Brienne together, and went to the same school as Podrick and Sansa to get her diploma. Myrcella simply brought Trystane with her, which was apparently enough for her all along.

Thankfully, that eased some of the tensions between her and her mother, though Cersei still has as hard time accepting boundaries as Myrcella and Trystane have no intention to spend all of their time with Cersei Lannister. It’s enough that she, Euron, and Joffrey build the new terrible trio now.

_Because Euron and Joffrey were a surrogate father-son match made in every of the Seven Hells. _

Jaime sends the thought far away, though. While such family drama will boil up at any family gathering his father forces them to attend even when neither one really want to, Jaime finds those troubles flitting just as quickly away as the cabins whoosh past his head at today’s fair.

He has a family now and doesn't have to struggle for anyone’s affection or approval.

“Pod, I got you something!” Sansa calls out as she comes to stand next to him. Podrick smiles like a witless fool in love when Sansa hands him a blue rose she seemingly won for him.

“She got one lucky hit after the other,” Trystane says, one arm loosely dangling around Myrcella’s hip.

“No lucky hit,” Sansa insists, smirking. “Brienne gave me some shooting practice.”

“For that, she showed me how to sew,” Brienne says, winking at her.

“What inspired you?” Pod asks.

Sansa kisses him on the cheek. “My boyfriend.”

“By the way, does anyone know where Tommen is hiding? I really don’t want to have to call him out over loudspeaker. He is too grown up for that,” Jaime asks, looking around, suffering from a severe flashback of the fair that changed everything and how he couldn’t find the boy, not without Brienne’s help at least.

“He is trying to impress a girl, it’s so cute,” Myrcella informs him, grinning fondly. “She’s older than him and way out of his league, he believes, but I think they would be cute together. Margaery Tyrell. I believe she is done with her bad boy phase and is looking for someone… nice and kind. And who would be more suited for that than my little brother, hm?”

Tommen and Myrcella grew rather close over time, when they used to be somewhat distant because Myrcella was away at Dorne for so long. Jaime’s niece seemingly saw that family matters and has since focused at least some of her efforts on boosting his little brother’s sometimes still lacking confidence.

_Because family comes first. _

“So we just leave him to it, I suppose,” Jaime says.

“He’ll be fine,” Brienne agrees. “He can handle himself.”

Apparently, Tommen grew rather self-conscious once he got to know Brienne better. While Tommen won’t ever take a liking to close combat the way Brienne and Jaime like it, it was Jaime’s wife who figured that the boy is an endurable runner, which was one way of boosting his confidence, once she started running with him. While he remains a sweet, somewhat shy young man, Tommen found his voice over time, even against Joffrey and his mother. And the way it looks, Jaime has any faith that the boy will continue to make his way to his conditions.

_Though his love for cats won’t ever leave him. That much is for sure. _

Jaime frowns when he feels Joanne move out of his lap. He can see his daughter crawling over to her mother, beaming at Brienne brightly as she plops pink popcorn into her little mouth.

“Abandoning your old man already? They grow up so fast,” he sighs. “Little time from now she won’t talk to me and only look at her phone to update her _InstaBran_ status.”

“It should be some more time until,” Myrcella offers reassuringly, winking at him. “We are seeing to that, aren’t we?”

“Little traitor,” Jaime says, winking at his daughter, who is much too preoccupied with her rainbow popcorn, however.

“Mommy gives the best piggyback rides,” Joanne informs him at last.

“You just have the advantage of being taller,” Jaime lets his wife know.

“It can have its advantages,” Brienne chuckles, before turning to the rest of the group. “So? Are we ready to go?”

“Yes!” all call out.

“Don’t forget the bags,” she reminds her husband.

“I would never, honey,” Jaime says, long since having accepted his role as the walking shelf for the prizes of the family.

_The things we do for love…_

Brienne swiftly lifts their daughter onto her broad shoulders, in the same motion taking the plastic bag away from her, as Joanne still tends to be a somewhat messy eater. Thankfully, their daughter takes no offense, all too much absorbed into the changed perspective.

“I can see _The Rotor_, mommy! And one boy is puking – and it flew into another boy’s face!”

“Thanks for that information, Joanne, I really needed to know that,” Brienne says as they start to walk.

Jaime smiles to himself as he watches the two loves of his life. He is glad to see the apparent ease with which Brienne carries herself – and their daughter – most of the time. When she found out that she was pregnant, Brienne was a nervous wreck, which surprised Jaime, until he understood that her own insecurities about parenthood suddenly bubbled up again. It took a lot of reassurance not just from him but the young adults she helped raise to understand that she would be fine and that she wouldn’t be alone with this – and she never was.

She was quick to embrace her role as a fierce yet loving mother once Joanne was born, however. While there continue to be those times when she fusses about as Jaime does, feeling unsure about to where this ride is headed, most are overshadowed by those moments where Brienne is at peace not just with the world but with herself.

And whenever Jaime sees his wife like that, he can’t help but smile, sometimes not believing his luck but always grateful for it.

“Careful, shoelaces,” Pod suddenly says to Brienne, nodding down.

“Can you take her?” Brienne asks, nodding at Joanne.

“Oh, I would feel so honored. M’lady Joanne, would you care to join me whilst your Lady Mother takes care of her attire?” Jaime says, waving his hands around dramatically before bowing in a grandeur gesture.

“Not at all, Ser,” Joanne answers, smiling as Brienne lifts her off her shoulders and into Jaime’s open arms. He made a habit of it to read the bedtime stories to her, doing his very best to enact every scene, and right now, Joanne is very much intrigued by knightly tales, which is all the better for Jaime, because he loved those stories as a kid himself, which makes it all the easier to put everything he has into the act.

Jaime lets his gaze wander, but then suddenly stops, smirking. “Oh, look at that, Brienne! Doesn’t that bring back memories?”

Brienne looks up from her shoes, wrinkling her nose. “Oh Gods.”

“What’s the matter, daddy?” Joanne wants to know.

“This is the exact same place where mommy and I first kissed.”

“How sweet!” Sansa says, clapping her hands together.

“Trystane, we definitely go there later.”

“Be wary of the rats,” Brienne warns them.

Trystane makes a face. “What rats?”

“There was one last time,” Brienne answers. “Who knows if they ever caught it.”

“Eww.” Myrcella shudders.

“And I dutifully defended your mother from the evil rat king,” Jaime tells Joanne, who tilts her head to the side as she looks at him.

“You certainly did not,” Brienne scoffs.

“Well, I certainly _would_ have, had he shown himself.”

“But mommy says that she beats you in boxing!” Joanne argues.

“But I am as fast as a weasel,” Jaime insists. “From whom do you think did you get that?”

“Alright, let’s get moving. The line in front of the Ferris wheel is not that long for once. Maybe we can all get on at the same time,” Brienne suggests.

“Will you have me for the rest of the ride, m’lady Joanne?” Jaime asks.

“Yes, Ser.”

“Splendid!”

They continue to make the rest of the way. Jaime gets into the cabin first and puts down Joanne next to him, stuffing the bags into the compartment below, hoping all the more that they won’t get stuck on the Ferris wheel a second time. Because he is sure that he will earn himself a cramp in the leg from that seating position if it is maintained for longer than five minutes. Brienne climbs in next to Joanne and closes the door.

“Everyone set?” Brienne asks as she folds her long legs in as well, which gives Jaime all those kinds of thoughts he knows he is not supposed to share in front of his daughter.

“I am set! Let’s start!” Joanne declares.

Jaime chuckles softly. “The carny will start once everyone else is ready, too.”

“Ugh.” She puckers her lips in a disappointed pout.

“She does have her father’s patience,” Jaime muses.

Brienne snorts at that. “You mean the lack thereof.”

At last, the ride sets into motion. Jaime sigh with relief as cold air blows into his face and the noises from below start to die out. Once they reach the top, Jaime can’t help but think back to the day he first met Brienne. If possible, the stars shine ever brighter than last time.

He is in a spot he didn’t see himself eight years ago, but Jaime came to realize that he is right where he was meant to be all along, long before he knew to where that ride was headed. And while there continue to be loops and sharp turns that nearly throw him out of his seat or make him sick at times, it is those moments that reassure him that that last chip was the best investment Jaime made in a lifetime.

_Sometimes, being bold does pay off. _

“That brings back memories, too, doesn’t it?” Jaime notes.

“It does,” Brienne agrees, smiling softly. “Joanne? How about you? Do you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes!” Joanne answers, but then looks at her mother with huge eyes. “But mommy!”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I have a snow cone once we get back down?”

“What color would you want to have this time?” Brienne questions. “Blue or red?”

“Purple!”

Jaime laughs, throwing his head back.

_Oh, if only she knew…_

“I suppose we can ask the guy for a sprinkle of both,” her mother offers, unable to smirk herself, likely all the more reminded of her experience with the flavor purple during the fair that brought them together against very odd odds.

“Yay!”

The cabin comes to a halt.

“Please tell me this is no malfunction again,” Jaime grunts, his mind already shifting back to Joffrey threatening to murder his uncle by pushing him out of the cabin and how they barely dodged the bullet of being rescued by the firefighters that night.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Brienne argues, looking down.

He sighs with relief. “Thank the Seven.”

“Well, at least we have a nice view, no matter what happens next,” Brienne argues, to which Jaime wholeheartedly agrees, “The best.”

“I wish there was a fair every day,” Joanne sighs.

“But then it wouldn’t be so special, would it?” Jaime argues in a mild tone. Their daughter considers his statement for a moment, tapping her index finger against her chin, to continue to say at last, “True again. But next time, we go again, yes, daddy?”

“Of course. It’s a family tradition… Speaking of…” Jaime glances over to Brienne, before reaching over to pull her closer to him by the chin, pressing his lips to hers for a tender yet warm kiss. 

Because that, too, is tradition. At least Jaime made it such.

_After all, she is my fair lady._

Once they pull apart, both cherish the small moment of silence between them, where their skin barely touches and yet, burns with the same intensity when they first met and made their first attempts at being bold. 

“I think I can see Uncle Tyrion! Hi Uncle Tyrion!” Joanne calls out.

And just like that, those moments flit away, but Jaime long since learned to relish them while they last, because life is a rollercoaster, _as corny as that may sound_. You never know what turn comes next, you don’t know to where the next loop takes you, but so long you are not alone on the ride, you are likely going to do just fine.

_Unless you get stuck on the Ferris wheel forever… _

“I thought we lost him at the beverage stand again,” Brienne comments. “Another family tradition, huh?”

“I surely hoped to have lost him there. At least he didn’t make himself a cape again. That I can see,” Jaime adds, then looks back up to see Joanne snuggling up against her mother’s side, looking more and more tired by every second passing.

_It’s a small wonder._ The girl was so excited about the fair that she bounced up and down the walls all day, with a set plan on what rides to go to and what foods to eat. And of course, everything had to happen at once when they reached the fair.

Brienne absently tousles her fingers through her hair. Little time from now, Joanne will be sound asleep, which guarantees them a silent ride home and getting into bed early, _thank the Seven_. And if Jaime gets really lucky tonight, his wife will reward him with staying up a while longer – _for parent time_.

“What’s the matter?” Brienne asks him.

He frowns. “Nothing’s the matter, why?”

“You smile like an idiot.”

“I am just happy,” Jaime answers truthfully.

“Oh, that’s convenient.”

“Why?”

“So am I.” Brienne smiles and doesn’t hide it at all, because it is the happiness they both share in, it’s the happiness they found and didn’t let go, even when it dared to run away from them more often than not throughout the years. But together, they always found their ways back on track, and Jaime dares to hope that they will continue to.

Jaime puts his arm around Brienne’s shoulder, embracing his little big world currently sitting in the cabin as it sets back into motion. While the noises of the fair grow louder and louder, Jaime barely registers it all because all he can hear is the soft humming of Brienne’s voice as Joanne continues to drift in and out of sleep. And all he can see is his own luck at the end of the ride, which gave him something he didn’t know he always wanted until he had it. And now that he does, Jaime wouldn’t trade anything for their small, sometimes annoying, oftentimes curious, and always singular family.

Because he finally arrived somewhere, with her.

And the future, undoubtedly, tastes of purple.

_The End _


End file.
